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7 

LETTERS 



OP 



Mrs. ADAMS, 



THE WIFE OF JOHN ADAMS. 



INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR 

BY HER GRANDSON, 

CHARLES FRANCIS ADAMS. 



BOSTON: 

CHARLES C. LITTLE AND JAMES BROWN. 
M DCCC XL. 



w 









^ ^ ■^ i 



Entered according to Act of Congress 'n the year 1840, by 

Charles Franci ms, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of 

Massachusetts. 



C A RI BRIDGE: 

FOLSOM, WELLS, AND THURSTON, 

PBINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 



L 



CONTENTS 



Page 

Memoir xxi 

1761. 

To Mrs. H. Lincoln. 5 October. Accepts the offer to 
• correspond with her. Views of life 3 

1764. 

To John Adams. 16 April. Pleasure in writing. Ques- 
tions about his health 7 

To the same. 19-20 April. Wishes to know her faults. 
Dreams » 8 

1767. 
^ To the same. 14 September. Family well. At her fa- 
ther's 12 

1774. 

To the same. 19 August. Time tedious in his absence. 
Anxiety for the future. Reading Rollin 13 

To the same. 2 September. Popular excitement. Seiz- 
ure of the warrants for summoning juries. Drought . 15 

To the same. 14 - 16 September. Warlike preparations 
of Governor Gage. The gunpowder in Braintree se- 
cured by the people. They force the Sheriff to surren- 
der warrants and burn them. Dismay of the Tories. 
At Colonel Quincy's. Students at law in her house. 



X CONTENTS. 

Page 

Mr. Thaxter leaches her son. Morals of children. 

Popular feeling in Taunton 18 

To the same. 22 September. Visit to Boston. State of 

the town. Negro conspiracy 23 

To the same. 16 October. Desires his return. Fears 

for the future. Necessity of economy. General Gage. 

Departure of Josiah Q.uincy, Jr., for England ... 25 

1775. 

To the same. 4 May. Affairs at home. Hutchinson's 
letters. Mr. Quincy's death 29 

To the same. 7 May. Cheering news from North Car- 
olina. Distress of Boston 31 

To the same. 24 May. Alarm in Braintree. British 
foraging party. Arrival of Dr. Franklin from Europe. 
Fire in Boston. State of her house 32 

To the same. 15 June. Arrival of British recruits. Ap- 
prehensions. Mr. Bowdoin. Importance of soldiers. 
Scarcity of pins 35 

To the same. 18-20 June, Action on Bunker's Hill. 
Death of Dr. Warren 39 

To the same. 22 June. Answers inquiries. Dr. Tufts. 
Preparations for removal 41 

To the same. 25 June. Particulars of the action on 
Bunker's Hill. Divine service. Preacher not ardent 
enough. Condition of Boston. Effect of reports . . 43 

To the same. 5 July. Pleasure of telling news. State 
of Boston. Not afraid. Scarcity of grain .... 47 

To the same. 16 July. Appointment of Washington 
and Lee satisfactory. First impressions upon seeing 
them. State of Boston. British attacked upon Long 
Island. Braintree elects a representative. Scarcity 
of foreign goods 50 

To the same. 25 July. Boston lighthouse burnt by a party 
of Americans. Restrictions on the inhabitants of Bos- 
ton. Generals Burgoyne and Clinton. Visit to Dedham 57 



CONTENTS. XI 

Page 

To the same. 31 July -2 August. Inveighs against 
Britain. Treatment of Dr. Warren's remains. British 
carpenters attacked at the lighthouse. Four prison- 
ers with whom she converses 63 

To the same. 1 October. Death of her mother. In 
great distress. Prevalence of disease 67 

To the same. 21 October. Sickness abated. State of 
Boston. Dr. Church. Her father's grief. Complains 
of her long separation from her husband. Want of 
needles and cloth 69 

To the same. 22 October. Describes her mother's 
death. Effect upon herself. British demand upon Fal- 
mouth. Tory satires in Boston . . 73 

To the same. 5 November. Dines in company with 
Dr. Franklin. Reflections upon Dr. Church. Hopes 
for her husband's return 76 

To the same. 12 November. Renounces attachment to 
Britain. Skirmish at Lechmere's Point. Her own mel- 
ancholy 76 

To the same. 27 November. Regrets his prolonged 
stay. Reflections upon government 80 

To the same. 10 December. Visits the American 
camp. Generals Lee and Sullivan. Suggests meas- 
ures. Scarcity of foreign goods. Congress too timid 83 

1776. 

To the same. 2-9 March. Ridiculous rumor. Desires 
independence to be declared. Roar of cannon from 
Dorchester Heights. Disappointment at the result. 
Movements in Congress 87 

To the same. 7-11 April. British troops removed. 
Funeral of Dr. Warren. Engaged in farming. Cap- 
ture of a British vessel. News 93 

To the same. 7-9 May. Neglect of preparations for de- 
fence. Necessity for government. More captures . 96 

To the same. 17 June. At Plymouth. Goes on board 



XU CONTENTS. 

Page 
the brig Defence. Account of the capture of two 

transports. Confidence in the future 100 

To the same. 29 September. Anxious for news. High 
prices paid for drafted men. Great number in the 
public service, and in privateers. Willing to reap the 
harvests 105 

1777. 

To the same. 30-31 July. Bad news from the north. 
Distrust of foreign officers. Female mob in Boston . 107 

To the same. 5 August. Alarm in Boston. Proves un- 
founded. Mourns her separation from him .... 110 

To the same. 17 September. Letter from Mr. Lovell. 
Horrible apprehensions 113 

To the same. 25 October. General Burgoyne's surren- 
der. Generous terms offered to him. Reflections upon 
her wedding anniversary 114 

1778. 

To the same. 8 March. Rumor of Dr. Franklin's assas- 
sination. Apprehensions at her husband's departure for 
Europe. Directions to her son 116 

To the same. 18 May. Anxious for intelligence of him. 
Attachment to her native country. Opposite conduct 
of France and of Great Britain. Depreciated currency 119 

To John Quincy Adams. June. Advice 122 

To John Adams. 30 June. Receipt of his first letter 
from abroad. Begs for more. Defective female edu- 
cation in America. Shebbeare's Letters 125 

To the same. October. Officers of the French fleet. 
Visits the ship of Count d'Estaing. Is displeased with 
the brevity of her husband's letters. Paper money . 129 

To the same. 27 December. Her lonely situation this 
winter. EflTect of a Scotch song ........ 132 

1779. 
To the same. 20 March - 23 April. Letters intercepted. 



CONTENTS. Xm 

Page 

Paper money. Public news. Capture of British ves- 
sels 134 

To the same. 8 June, Depreciated currency. Death 
ofDr. Winthrop 138 

To the same. 14 November. Her house looks disconso- 
late at his departure .... 142 

1780. 

To John Quincy Adams. 12 January. Advice. Advan- 
tages of travelling. Great necessities call out great 
virtues 143 

To the same. 20 March. Religion the only foundation 
of virtue. Self-knowledge recommended, and self- 
government 146 

To John Adams. 16 July. Receipt of letters. Sacrifi- 
ces to support the war . . 151 

To the same. 15 October. Arnold's plot. Prices cur- 
rent 154 

1781. 

To the same. 23 January. Repeal of the tender law. 
Heavy taxes. British employ Arnold 157 

To the same. 2o May. Beauty of the season. Hopes 
he may make a treaty with Holland. The currency 
has lost all value 160 

To the same. 9 December. Marquis de la Fayette. 
The surrender of Cornwallis. Anxiety about the re- 
turn of her second son. tlas the heart-ache for want 
of letters. Requests assistance for townsmen in British 
prisons. Hopes for his return. Affairs of business .163 

1782. 

To the same. 25 October. Eighteenth anniversary of 
her wedding. Reflections. Return of the prisoners . 168 

To the same. 13-25 November. Regrets his long ab- 
sence. Her confidence in him 172 



XIV CONTENTS. 

Page 
To the same. 23 December. Expresses her feelings. 
Willing to sacrifice them for the common good . . . 175 

1783. 

To the same. 28-29 April. Joy at the news of peace. 
Amused by his Journal. Movement in Congress. 
Doubts about accepting his invitation to join him in 
Europe 177 

To the same. 20 June, Uncertainty as to his course. 
Doubtful state of the country. Would prefer his return 
to going to join him 182 

To the same. 19 November. Decides not to cross the 
ocean this winter. Anxious about his health , . . 186 

To John Quincy Adams. 20 November. Rejoiced to 
hear at last from him. Advice 188 

To John Adams. 18 December. Attends divine service 
in Boston. Feelings occasioned by the Thanksgiving 
sermon of Dr. Clark. Arrival of, and interview with, 
Mr. Dana. Answers her husband's pressing invitation 
to join him 192 

To John Quincy Adams. 26 December. Comparison 
of Russia and America. Causes of the rise and fall of 
nations. Advice 196 

1784. 

To Mrs. Cranch. 6-30 July. Journal on board ship 
Active. Fellow passengers. Arrival at Deal. Mode 
of landing on the beach. Journey to London. Seiz- 
ure of a highwayman. Visiters in London. Copley's 
paintings. Mrs. Wright's wax figures. The Found- 
ling and Magdalen hospitals. Arrival of her son . . 199 

To the same. 5 September. At Auteuil. Describes 
her house. Habits and expense of living in France. 
Servants 242 

To Miss Lucy Cranch. 5 September. Difference of 
travelling in France and in England. Prefers London 



CONTENTS. XV 

* Page 
to Paris. Dines with a French lady at Dr. Franklin's. 
Her disgust . . . . • 251 

To Mrs. Cranch. 9-12 December. Her solitude out of 
Paris. Expense of living. Visit to the Marquise de la 
Fayette who dines with her. Manners and dress of 
French ladies. Arrival of letters from home. Loth 
to part with her son 254 

To Mrs Shaw. 14 December. Auteuil famous only as 
the residence of learned men. French habits on Sun- 
day. Fondness for display. Great number of domes- 
tics 264 

1785. 

To the Rev. John Shaw. 18 January. The churches in 
Paris. Auricular confession. Visits the Church of St. 
Roch. Chorus of charity boys. The Abbe Thayer .268 

To Mrs. Storer. 20 January. Climate of France. Dress 
and manners of the ladies. Melodramatic pantomime. 
Dancing. Fashions in dress 271 

To Miss Lucy Cranch. 24 January. Reproves her for 
her handwriting, Twelfth-day cake. The way king- 
doms are obtained 275 

To Mrs. Cranch. 20 February - 13 March. Effect upon 
her of opera dancing. It injures the public morals. 
Dinners at the Marquis de la Fayette's and at home . 279 

To Miss Lucy Cranch. 7 May. Dines at Mr. Jeffer- 
son's. Walk in the gardens of the Tuileries .... 283 

To Mrs. Shaw. 8 May. Regret at leaving Auteuil. 
Expense of frequent removals. Clothing injured in 
travelling. Anecdote 288 

To Mrs. Cranch. 8-10 May. Feels her absence from 
home. Her son about to leave her 290 

To the same. 24 June. Arrival in London. Looking 
for a house. Expense of living. Impostors. Mr. 
Adams presented to the King and Queen. A visit 



XVI CONTENTS. 

• Page 

from Lady Effingham. Ceremony of presentation indis- 
pensable. Her own dress and that of her daughter. 
She describes the scene. Want of female beauty at 
Court. Tory abuse 293 

To Mrs, Shaw. 15 August. Her dwelling well situated. 
Illiberality of the English to other nations. Reasons 
why she prefers America to Europe. English hostility 
to the former 304 

To Miss Lucy Cranch. 27 August. Letter-writing. 
Value of Richardson's writings. Extract from Sir 
Joshua Reynolds 306 

To John Quincy Adams. 6 September. How she spent 
Sunday. Arrival of letters from home. Joy and grief 
near akin. Remarks upon the policy of England to- 
wards America. The Cardinal de Rohan 310 

To Mrs. Cranch. 30 September. Dislikes the Court. 
Attends a drawing-room. English not so handsome as 
American women. Miss Dana. Reflections upon the 
illness of her aunt 314 

To the same. 1 October. Company to dine. The corps 
diplomatique. Visit from Madame de Pinto. English 
feeling against America. Letter from Mr. Jefferson . 318 

1786. 

To Mrs. Shaw. 4 March. Mrs. Siddons in the charac- 
ter of Desdemona ; in Matilda and in Lady Macbeth, 
Dislikes Shakspeare's play of Othello." Effect upon 
her of Colonel Trumbull's painting of the Death of 
General Warren. Character of her son 322 

To Miss Lucy Cranch. 2 April. America remarkable 
for cultivating the social affections. Ball at the French 
Ambassador's. Her own dress. Her daughter's. De- 
scribes Lady N and her daughter 326 

To Mrs. Cranch. 6 April. Rout at the Swedish Minis- 
ter's. Cards. English ladies gamble 332 

To the same. 21 May. Office of American Minister not 



CONTENTS. XVll 

Page 
desirable. Improper notions of education for American 
boys. Dines at the Bishop of St. Asaph's. Dr. Priestley 334 

To Miss Lucy Cranch. 20 July. Duke of Northumber- 
land laid in state. Excursion to Portsmouth. Wind- 
sor. The Castle 338 

To Mrs. Cranch. 12 September. Visit to Holland. Its 
friendship not appreciated in America. Amsterdam. 
The Exchange. General impressions from the country 
and the people. Return to London. Receipt of Amer- 
ican letters. Death of her aunt 343 

To John Quincy Adams. 27 September. Visit to the 
Hyde. Singularity of Mr. Brand-Hollis. His cabinet 
of curiosities. His sister and his gardener .... 350 

To Mrs. Shaw. 21 November. Visit from Mr. . 

His unlucky observations to Mr. Adams. Reflections 
upon general benevolence. Mourning for Princess 
Amelia 356 

1787. 

To Mrs. Cranch. 20 January. Visit to Bath. Story of 
Bladud. Describes the place. Its dissipation. Riots in 
America. Tuscarora rice 360 

To the same. 25 - 27 February. Disturbances in Massa- 
chusetts 368 

To the same. 28 April. Insurrection of Shays. Tory 
malignity 372 

To the same. 16 July. Uneasy for want of letters, and 
anxious respecting her son's health. Mr. Jefferson's 
daughter. Commencement day 374 

To the same. 15 September. Journey into Devonshire. 
Winchester. Family of Quincy. Southampton. Wey- 
mouth. Axminster. Exeter. Plymouth. Kings- 
bridge. Cranch family. Effect of attending public 
places upon female character 378 

To Miss Lucy Cranch. 3 October. Visit to Blenheim 389 
b 



XVlll CONTENTS. 

Page 
To John Quincy Adams. 12 October. Enjoins modera- 
tion. AfFair.g in Holland. Desire for war in Great 
Britain 395 

1789. 
To Mrs. Shaw. 27 September. At Richmond Hill, 
N. Y. Describes her residence. Organization of the 
government 399 

1790. 

To Thomas Brand-Plollis. 6 September. The same 
subject 402 

To Mrs. Smith. 21 - 28 November. Arrival at Philadel- 
phia. State of her house. Compares Philadelphia to 
New York 405 

To the same. 26 December. Attends at a drawing- 
room. Her distance from Philadelphia 403 

1791. 

To the same. 8 January. Advises retirement. Visits 
the theatre 410 

To the same. 25 January. News from Europe. Agree- 
able society. Value of parents 412 

To the same. 21 February. Dines at the President's. 
Education of children. Dr. Watts' " Moral Songs for 
Children " 415 

To Mrs. Shaw. 20 March. Excuses her not writing. 
Describes her residence near Philadelphia . . . . . 418 

1794. 

To Mrs. Smith. 3 February. Fond of society. Reflec- 
tions upon the execution of Marie Antoinette . . . 421 

To the same. 8 March. Illness of Mr. Adams's mother. 
Old age. Seneca 423 

To the same. 10 March. Cautions respecting foreign- 
ers. Value of religion and attendance upon public 
worship 425 



CONTENTS. XIX 

1797. 

Page 
To John Adams. 8 February. Congratulation and good 

wishes 428 

To the same. 26 April. Effect of funeral rites in her 
family. Ready to join him 429 

1800. 

To Thomas B. Adams. 13 November. Result of the 
election of President. Proposed return to Quincy . . 430 

To Mrs. Smith. 21 November. Arrival at Washington. 
Inconvenience of her nevt' situation. Meeting of Con- 
gress 432 

1801. 
To Colonel W. S. Smith. 3 May. Acknowledges the 

receipt of plants at Quincy. Has returned to her dairy 436 
To Thomas B. Adams. 12 July. Invites him to Quincy 437 

1809. 
To Mrs. Shaw. 5 June. Has been ill. Effect of old 
age and loss of friends. Duty of an American wifet 
Mrs. Grant's " Letters from the Mountains " . . . . 438 

1812. 

To Caroline A. Smith. 19-27 November. Journal of a 
day. Reflections upon her birth-day. Thanksgiving 
day 441 

1814. 
To F. A. Vanderkemp. 3 February. Learned ladies, 
Madame de Stael 445 



MEMOIR. 



The memorials of that generation, by whose efforts 
the independence of the United States was achieved, are 
in great abundance. There is hardly an event of impor- 
tance, from the year 1765 to the date of the definitive 
treaty of peace with Great Britain, in September, 1783, 
which has not been recorded, either by the industry of 
actors upon the scene, or by the indefatigable activity of 
a succeeding class of students. These persons have de- 
voted themselves, with a liighly commendable zeal, to 
the investigation of all particulars, even the most minute, 
that relate to this interesting period. The individuals, 
called to act most conspicuously in the Revolution, have 
many of them left voluminous collections of papers, 
which, as time passes, find their way to the light by pub- 
lication, and furnish important illustrations of the feel- 
ings and motives under which the contest was carried 
on. The actors are thus made to stand in bold relief 
before us. We not only see the public record, but the 
private commentary also ; and these, taken in connexion 
with the contemporaneous histories, all of which, however 
defective in jjhilosophical analysis, are invaluable deposi- 
tories of facts related by living witnesses, will serve to 
transmit to posterity the details for a narration in as com- 



XXU MEMOIR. 

plete a form as will in all probability ever be attained by 
the imperfect faculties of man. 

Admitting these observations to be true, there is, nev- 
ertheless, a distinction to be drawn between the materials 
for a history of action and those for one of feeling ; between 
the action of men aiming at distinction among their fellow- 
beings, and the private, familiar sentiments, that run into 
the texture of the social system, without remark or the 
hope of observation. Here it is, that something like a 
void in our annals appears still to exist. Our history is 
for the most part wrapped up in the forms of office. 
The great men of the Revolution, in the eyes of pos- 
terity, are many of them like heroes of a mythological 
age. They are seen, for the most part, when conscious 
that they are acting upon a theatre, where individual 
sentiment must be sometimes disguised, and often sacri- 
ficed, for the public good. Statesmen and generals rarely 
say all they think or feel. The consequence is, that, in 
the papers which come from them, they are made to as- 
sume a uniform of grave hue, which, though it doubtless 
exalts the opinion entertained of their perfections, some- 
what diminishes the interest with which later generations 
study their character. Students of human nature seek 
for examples of man under circumstances of difficulty 
and trial ; man as he is, not as he would appear ; but 
there are many reasons why they are often baffled in 
the search. We look for the workings of the heart, 
when those of the head alone are presented to us. We 
watch the emotions of the spirit, and yet find clear traces 
only of the reasoning of the intellect. The solitary medi- 
tation, the confidential whisper to a friend, never meant 
to reach the ear of the multitude, the secret wishes, not 
to be blazoned forth to catch apjjlause, the fluctuations 
between fear and hope, that most betray the springs of 



MEMOIR. XXm 

action, — these are the guides to character, which most 
frequently vanish with the moment that called them 
forth, and leave nothing to posterity but those coarser 
elements for judgment, that may be found in elaborated 
results. 

There is, however, still another element in the judg- 
ment of historical events, which is not infrequently lost 
sight of It is of great importance, not only to understand 
the nature of the superiority of the individuals, who have 
made themselves a name above their fellow-beings, but to 
estimate the degree in which the excellence for which 
they were distinguished was shared by those among 
whom they lived. Inattention to this duty might pre- 
sent Patrick Henry and James Otis, Washington, Jeffer- 
son, and Samuel Adams, as the causes of the American 
Revolution, which they were not. There was a moral 
principle in the field, to the power of which a great ma- 
jority of the whole population of the colonies, whether 
male or female, old or young, had been long and habitu- 
ally trained to do homage. The individuals named, with 
the rest of their celebrated associates, who best represent- 
ed that moral principle before the world, were not the 
originators, but the spokesmen, of the general opinion, 
and instruments for its adaptation to existing events. 
Whether fighting in the field, or deliberating in the Sen- 
ate, their strength against Great Britain was not that of 
numbers, nor of wealth, nor of genius ; but it drew its 
nourishment from the sentiment that pervaded the dwel- 
lings of the entire population. 

How much this home sentiment did then, and does 
ever, depend upon the character of the female portion of 
the people, will be too readily understood by all, to re- 
quire explanation. The domestic hearth is the first of 
schools, and the best of lecture-rooms; for tliere the heart 



XXIV MEMOIR. 

will cooperate with the mind, the affections with the 
reasoning power. And this is the scene for the ahnost 
exclusive sway of the weaker sex. Yet, great as the in- 
fluence thus exercised undoubtedly is, it escapes observa- 
tion in such a manner, that history rarely takes much 
account of it. The maxims of religion, faith, hope, and 
charity, are not passed through the alembic of logical 
proof, before they are admitted into the daily practice of 
women. They go at once into the teachings of infancy, 
and thus form the only high and pure motives of which 
matured manhood can, in its subsequent action, ever 
boast. Neither, when the stamp of duty is to be struck 
in the young mind, is there commonly so much of alloy 
in the female heart as with men, with which the genuine 
metal may be fused, and the face of the coin made dim. 
There is not so much room for the doctrines of expedi- 
ency, and the promptings of private interest, to compro- 
mise the force of public example. In every instance of 
domestic convulsions, and when the pruning-hook is de- 
serted for the sword and musket, the sacrifice of feelings 
made by the female sex is unmixed with a hope of 
worldly compensation. With them there is no ambi- 
tion to gratify, no fame to be gained by the simply nega- 
tive virtue of privations suffered in silence. There is no 
action to drown in its noise and bustle a full sense of the 
pain that must inevitably attend it. The lot of woman, 
in times of trouble, is to be a passive spectator of events, 
which she can scarcely hope to make subservient to her 
own fame, or to control. 

If it were possible to get at the expression of feelings 
by women in the heart of a community, at a moment of 
extraordinary trial, recorded in a shape evidently de- 
signed to be secret and confidential, this would seem to 
present the surest and most unfailing index to its general 



MEMOIR. XXV 

character. Hitherto we have not gathered much of this 
material in the United States. The dispersion of fami- 
lies, so common in America, the consequent destruction 
of private papers, the defective nature of female educa- 
tion before the Revolution, the difficulty and danger of 
free communication, and the engrossing character, to the 
men, of public, and to the women, of domestic cares, 
have all contributed to cut short, if not completely to 
destroy, the sources of information. It is truly remark- 
ed, in the present volume, that " instances of patience, 
perseverance, fortitude, magnanimity, courage, human- 
ity, and tenderness, which would have graced the Ro- 
man character, were known only to those who were 
themselves the actors, and whose modesty could not 
suffer them to blazon abroad their own fame." ^ The 
heroism of the females of the Revolution has gone 
from memory with the generation that witnessed it, and 
nothing, absolutely nothing, remains upon the ear of the 
young of the present day, but the faint echo of an expir- 
ing general tradition. There is, moreover, very little 
knowledge remaining to us of the domestic manners of 
the last century, when, with more of admitted distinc- 
tions than at present, there was more of general equality ; 
very little of the state of social feeling, or of that simplici- 
ty of intercourse, which, in colonial times, constituted in 
New England as near an approach to the successful ex- 
emplification of the democratic theory, as the irregularity 
in the natural gifts of men will, in all probability, ever 
practically allow. 

It is the pm-pose of the present volume to contribute 
something to the supply of this deficiency, by giving to 
tradition a form partially palpable. The present is be- 
lieved to be the first attempt, in the United States, to lay 

1 Letter, 4 March, 1786, p. 325. 



XXVI MEMOIR. 

before the public a series of private letters, written with- 
out the remotest idea of publication, by a woman, to her 
husband, and others of her nearest and dearest relations. 
Their greatest value consists in the fact, susceptible of no 
misconception, that they furnish an exact transcript of 
the feelings of the writer, in times of no ordinary trial. 
Independently of this, the variety of scenes in which she 
wrote, and the opportunities furnished for observation in 
the situations in which she was placed by the elevation 
of her husband to high official positions in the country, 
may contribute to sustain the interest with which they 
will be read. The undertaking is, nevertheless, too novel 
not to inspire the Editor with some doubt of its success, 
particularly as it brings forward to public notice a per- 
son who has now been long removed from the scene of 
action, and of whom, it is not unreasonable to suppose, 
the present generation of readers have neither personal 
knowledge nor recollection. For the sake of facilitating 
their progress, and explaining the allusions to persons and 
objects very frequently occurring, it may not be deemed 
improper here to premise some account of her life. 

There were few persons of her day and generation, 
who derived their origin, or imbibed their character, 
more exclusively from the genuine stock of the 3Iassa- 
chusetts Puritan settlers, than Abigail Smith. Her father, 
the Reverend William Smith, was the settled minister of 
the Congregational Church at Weymouth, for more than 
forty years, and until his death. Her mother, Elizabeth 
Quincy, was the granddaughter of the Reverend John 
Norton, long the pastor of a church of the same denomi- 
nation in the neighbouring town of Hingham, and the 
nephew of John Norton, well known in the annals of the 
colony.l Her maternal grandfather, John Quincy, was 

1 Hutchinson, Vol. I. pp. 220 et seq. 



BIEMOIR. XXVll 

the grandson of Thonnas Shepard, minister of Charles- 
town, distinguished in his day, and the son of the more 
distinguished Thomas Shejtard of Cambridge, whose 
name still lives in one of the churches of that town. 
These are persons whose merits may be found fully re- 
corded in the pages of Mather and of Neal. They 
were among the most noted of the most reputed class of 
their day. In a colony, founded so exclusively upon mo- 
tives of religious zeal as Massachusetts was, it necessarily 
followed, that the ordinary distinctions of society were in 
a great degree subverted, and that the leaders of the 
church, though without worldly possessions to boast of, 
were the most in honor everywhere. Education was 
promoted only as it was subsidiary to the great end of 
studying or expounding the Scriptures; and whatever 
of advance was made in the intellectual pursuits of soci- 
ety, was rather the incidental than the direct result of 
studies necessary to fit men for a holy calling. Hence it 
was, that the higher departments of knowledge were en- 
tered almost exclusively by the clergy. Classical learn- 
ing was a natural, though indirect consequence of the 
acquisition of those languages, in which the New Testa- 
ment and the Fathers were to be studied ; and dialectics 
formed the armour, of which men were compelled to 
learn the use, as a preparation for the wars of religious 
controversy. The mastery of these gave power and au- 
thority to their possessors. They, by a very natural 
transition, passed from being the guides of religious faith 
to their fellow men, to be guardians of education. To 
them, as the fountains of knowledge, and possessing 
the gifts most prized in the conmiunity, all other ranks 
in society cheerfully gave place. If a festive enter- 
tainment was meditated, the minister was sure to be 
first on the list of those to be invited. If any assembly of 



XXVIU BIEMOIR. 

citizens was held, he must be there to open the business 
with prayer. If a pohtical measure was in agitation, he 
was among the first whose opinion was to be consulted. 
Even the civil rights of the other citizens for a long time 
depended, in some degree, upon his good word ; and, after 
this rigid rule was laid aside, he yet continued, in the 
absence of technical law and lawyers, to be the arbiter 
and the judge in the differences between his fellow men. 
He was not infrequently the family physician. The 
great object of instruction being religious, the care of the 
young was also in his hands. The records of Harvard 
University, the child and darling of Puritan affections, 
show that of all the presiding officers, during the centu- 
ry and a half of colonial days, but two were laymen, and 
not ministers of the prevailing denomination ; and that 
of all, who, in the early times, availed themselves of such 
advantages as this institution could then offer, nearly 
half the number did so for the sake of devoting them- 
selves to the service of the gospel. 

But the prevailing notion of the purpose of education 
was attended with one remarkable consequence. The 
cultivation of the female mind was regarded with utter 
indifference. It is not impossible, that the early exam- 
ple of Mrs. Hutchinson, and the difficulties in which 
the public exercise of her gifts involved the colony, had 
established in the public mind a conviction of the danger 
that may attend the meddling of women with abstruse 
points of doctrine ; and these, however they might con- 
found the strongest intellect, were, nevertheless, the fa- 
vorite topics of thought and discussion in that generation. 
Waving a decision upon this, it may very safely be as- 
sumed, not only that there was very little attention given 
to the education of women, but that, as Mrs. Adams, in 



MEMOIR. XXIX 

one of her letters,' says, " it was fashionable to ridicule 
female learning." The only chance for much intellectual 
improvement in the female sex was to he found in the 
families of that which was the educated class, and in oc- 
casional intercourse with the learned of their day. What- 
ever of useful instruction was received in the practical con- 
duct of life, came from maternal lips ; and what of further 
mental developement, depended more upon the eager- 
ness with which the casual teachings of daily conver- 
sation were treasured up, than upon any labor expended 
purposely to promote it. 

Abigail Smith was the second of three daughters. Her 
father, as has been already mentioned, was the minister 
of a small Congregational Church in the town of Wey- 
mouth, during the middle of the last century. She was 
born in that town, on the 11th of November, 1744, O. S. 
In her neighbourhood, there were not many advan- 
tages of instruction to be found ; and even in Boston, 
the small metropolis nearest at hand, for reasons already 
stated, the list of accomplishments within the reach of 
females was probably very short. She did not enjoy an 
opportunity to acquire even such as there might have 
been, for the delicate state of her health forbade the idea 
of sending her away from home to obtain them. In a 
letter, written in 1817, the year before her death, speak- 
ing of her own deficiencies, she says ; " My early educa- 
tion did not partake of the abundant opportunities which 
the present days offer, and which even our conunon 
country schools now afford. / never was sent to any 
school. I was always sick. Female education, in the 
best families, went no further than writing and arith- 
m^ic ; in some few and rare instances, music and danc- 
ing." Hence it is not unreasonable to suppose that the 

1 Page 128. 



XXXll MEMOIR. 

ly unacquainted with young persons of her own sex 
and age. She had relations and connexions, hoth on the 
father's and tlje mother's side ; and with these she was 
upon as intimate terms as circumstances would allow. 
The distance between the homes of the young people 
was, however, too great, and the means of their parents 
too narrow, to admit of very frequent personal inter- 
course ; the substitute for which was a rapid inter- 
change of written communications. The letter-writing 
propensity manifested itself early in this youthful circle. 
A considerable number of the epistles of her correspon- 
dents have been preserved among the papers of Mrs. 
Adams. They are deserving of notice only as they fur- 
nish a general idea of the tastes and pursuits of the young 
women of that day. Perhaps the most remarkable thing 
about them is the evident influence upon the writers, 
which the study of " The Spectator," and of the poets, 
appears to have had. This is perceptible in the more im- 
portant train of thought and structure of language, as 
well as in the lesser trifles of the taste for quotation and 
for fictitious signatures. Calliope and Myra, Aspasia and 
Aurelia, have effectually succeeded in disguising their 
true names from the eyes of younger generations. The 
signature of Miss Smith appears to have been Diana, a 
name which she dropped after her marriage, without 
losing the fancy that prompted to its selection. Her let- 
ters, during the Revolution, show clearly enough the 
tendency of her own thoughts and feelings in the substi- 
tute, she then adopted, of Portia. Her fondness for quo- 
tations, the fashion of that day, it will be seen, was 
maintained through life. 

Perhaps there is no species of exercise, in early life, 
more productive of results useful to the mind, than that 
of writing letters. Over and above the mechanical facili- 



BIEBIOIR. XXXlll 

ty of constructing sentences, which no teaching will 
afford so well, the interest with which the object is 
commonly pursued gives an extraordinary impulse to 
the intellect. This is promoted, in a degree proportion- 
ate to the scarcity of temporary and local subjects for 
discussion. Where there is little gossip, the want of 
it must be supplied from books. The love of literature 
springs up where the weeds of scandal take no root. 
The young ladies of Massachusetts, in the last century, 
were certainly readers, even though only self-taught ; 
and their taste was not for the feeble and nerveless senti- 
ment, or the frantic passion, which comes from the nov- 
els and romances in the circulating library of our day, 
but was derived from the deepest wells of English 
literature. The poets and moralists of the mother 
country furnished to these inquiring minds their ample 
stores, and they were used to an extent, which it is at 
least doubtful if the more pretending and elaborate in- 
struction of the present generation would equal. 

Of Mrs. Adams's letters during this period of her youth, 
but very few remain in possession of her descendants. 
One specimen has been accidentally obtained, which 
makes the first in the present publication. The writer 
was, at the date of the letter, not quite seventeen, and 
was addressing a lady some years older than herself. 
This may account for a strain of gravity rather beyond 
her years or ordinary disposition. Two other letters, 
written to Mr. Adams, after she was betrothed, and before 
she was married to him, have been added, because they 
are believed to be more indicative of her usual temper at 
that age. These have been admitted to a place in the 
selection, not so much as claiming a particular merit, as 
because they are thought to furnish a standard of her 
mind and general character, when a girl, by which the 



XXXIV MEMOIR. 

improvement and full developement of her powers as a 
woman may readily be measured. 

The father of Mrs. Adams was a pious man, with 
something of that vein of humor, not uncommon among 
the clergy of New England, which ordinarily found such 
a field for exercise as is displayed in the pages of C»tton 
Mather. He was the father of three daughters, all of 
them women of uncommon force of intellect, though the 
fortunes of two of them confined its influence to a sphere 
much more limited than that which fell to the lot of Mrs. 
Adams. Mary, the eldest, was married, in 1762, to 
Richard Cranch, an English emigrant, who had settled 
at Germantown, a part of Braintree, and who subse- 
quently became a Judge of the Court of Common Pleas 
in Massachusetts, and died, highly respected, in the early 
part of the present century. The present William Cranch, 
of Washington, who has presided so long, and with so 
much dignity and fidelity, over the Circuit Court of the 
District of Columbia, is the son of this marriage. Eliza- 
beth, the youngest, was twice married ; first, to the Rev- 
erend John Shaw, minister of Haverhill, in Massachu- 
setts, and, after his death, to the Reverend Mr. Peabody, 
of Atkinson, New Hampshire. Thus much is necessary 
to be stated, in order to explain the relations, which the 
parties, in many of the letters, bore to each other. It is 
an anecdote, told of Mr. Smith, that, upon the marriage 
of his eldest daughter, he preached to his people from 
the text in the forty-second verse of the tenth chapter of 
Luke, "And Mary hath chosen that good part, which 
shall not be taken away from her." Two years elapsed, 
and his second daughter, the subject of this notice, was 
about to marry John Adams, then a lawyer in good 
practice, when some disapprobation of the match appears 
to have manifested itself among a portion of his parish- 



\ 



MEMOIR. XXXV 

ionei'S. The profession of law was, for a long period in 
the colonial history of Massachusetts, unknown ; and, 
after circumstances called it forth, the prejudices of tlie 
inhabitants, who thought it a calling hardly honest, 
were arrayed against those who adopted it. There are 
many -still living, who can remember how strong they re- 
mained, even down to the time of the adoption of the 
present Federal Constitution ; and the records of the Gen- 
eral Court, at its very last session, of 1840, will show that 
they have not quite disappeared at this day. Besides 
this, the family of Mr. Adams, the son of a small farmer 
of the middle class in Braintree, was thought scarcely 
good enough to match with the minister's daughter, de- 
scended from so many of the shining lights of the Colony. 
It is probable that Mr. Smith was made aware of the 
opinions expressed among his people, for he is said, im- 
mediately after the marriage took place, to have replied 
to them by a sermon, the text of which, in evident allu- 
sion to the objection against lawyers, was drawn from 
Luke vii. 33 ; " For John came neither eating bread nor 
drinking wine, and ye say, He hath a deviV ^ 

Mrs. Adams was married on the 25th of October, 
1764, having then nearly completed her twentieth year. 
The ten years immediately following present little that is 
worthy of recording. She appears to have passed a quiet, 
and apparently very happy life, having her residence in 
Braintree, or in Boston, according as the state of her 
husband's health, then rather impaired, or that of his 

1 As this anecdote rests entirely upon tradition, it has been differently 
told ; and it is here admitted in this form, rather as a characteristic fea- 
ture of the age, and of the individual, than from any positive reliance 
upon its accuracy. There are yet transmitted, among the inhabitants 
of Weymouth and Hingham, many stories of Mr. Smith's application of 
texts, in a similar manner, to the events of the Revolution, which ren- 
der the truth of this far from improbable. 



XXXVl MEMOIR. 

professional practice, made the change advisable. With- 
in this period she became the mother of a daughter, 
and of three sons, whose names will frequently appear in 
her letters ; and her domestic cares were relieved by the 
presence of her husband, who was absent from home 
only upon those occasions, when he, with the other law- 
yers of his time, was compelled to follow the court in its 
circuits. During these times, he used regularly to write 
to his wife, giving her an account of his adventures and 
of his professional success. These letters remain, and 
furnish a somewhat curious record of the manners and 
customs of the provincial times. She does not appear to 
have often replied. The only example is given in the 
present volume, and makes the fourth of the selection ; 
a letter, remarkable only for the picture it presents of 
peaceful domestic life, as a contrast to the stormy period 
immediately succeeding. 

It is said by Governor Hutchinson, in the third volume 
of his History, that neither the health of Mr. Adams, nor 
his business, admitted of his constant application to pub- 
lic affairs in the manner that distinguished his kinsman, 
Samuel Adams, during the years preceding the breaking 
out of the Revolution. If the sum of that application is 
to be measured by the frequency of his appearance before 
the public as an actor in an official character upon the 
scene, the remark is true ; for, up to the year 1774, he 
had served but once or twice as a representative in the 
General Court, and in no other situation. But this would 
furnish a very unfair standard, by which to try the extent 
of his labors for the public. Very often, as much is done 
by beforehand preparing the public mind for action, as 
by the conduct of that action after it has been commenc- 
ed ; although the visible amount of exertion, by which 
alone the world forms its judgments, is in the two cases 



MEMOIR. XXXVll 

widely different. From the time of liis marriage, in 
1764, perhaps still earlier, when he, as a young lawyer, 
in 1761, took notes of the argument in the celebrated 
cause of the Writs of Assistance, there is evidence con- 
standy presented of his active interest in the Revolution- 
ary struggle. There is hardly a year in the interval be- 
tween the earliest of these dates, and 1774, that the traces 
of his hand are not visible in the newspapers of Boston, 
elaborately discussing the momentous questions, which 
preceded the crisis. It was during this period, that 
the " Essay on Canon and Feudal Law " was written. 
A long controversy with Major Brattle, upon the pay- 
ment of the Judges, and the papers of "Novanglus," 
were other, though by no means all, the results of his 
labors. He drafted several of the papers of Instructions 
to the Representatives to the General Court, both in 
Boston and in his native town, and also some of the 
most elaborate legal portions of the celebrated contro- 
versy between that body and Governor Hutchinson. The 
tendency, which all these papers show, to seek for po- 
litical truth in its fundamental principles and most ab- 
stract forms, whilst it takes off much from the interest 
with which the merely general reader would now con- 
sider them, is yet of historical importance, as establish- 
ing the fact, how little of mere impulse there was in 
his mode of action against the mother country. They 
also show the extent of the studies to which his mind 
applied itself, and the depth of the foundation laid by 
him for his subsequent career. Yet, during all this 
time, his professional labors were never intermitted, 
and ceased only with the catastrophe which shut up 
the courts of justice, and rendered exertion upon a dif- 
ferent theatre absolutely necessary to the maintenance of 
the fabric of society. 



XXXVlll MEMOIR. 

Perhaps the precedhig detail belongs more properly to 
a memoir of Mr. Adams, than to that of his wife. Yet it 
would be impossible to furnish any accurate idea of her 
character, without explaining the precise nature of the 
influences acting upon her, whilst still young, and when 
that character was taking its permanent form. There 
was no one, who witnessed his studies with greater inter- 
est, or who sympathized with him in the conclusions, to 
which his mind was forcing him, more deeply, than Mrs. 
Adams. And hence it was, that, as the day of trial came, 
and the hour for action drew near, she was found not 
unprepared to submit to the lot appointed her. Mr. 
Adams was elected one of the delegates on the part of 
Massachusetts, instructed to meet persons chosen in the 
same manner from the other colonies, for the purpose of 
consulting in common upon the course most advisable 
to be adopted by them. In the month of August, 1774, 
he left home, in company with Samuel Adams, Tliomas 
Gushing, and Robert Treat Paine, to go to Philadelphia, 
at which place the proposed assembly was to be held. It 
is from this period, that the correspondence, Mrs. Ad- 
ams' portion of which is now submitted to the public, 
becomes interesting. The letter of the 19th of August of 
this yeari portrays her own feelings upon this, the first 
separation of importance from her husband, and the 
anxiety with which she was watching the course of 
events. Yet there is in it not a syllable of regret for the 
past, or of fear for the future ; but, on the contrary, an 
acute perception of the obstacles in the way of an imme- 
diate return to peaceful times, and a deliberate prepa- 
ration, by reading and reflection, for the worst. The 
Congress confined itself, in its first sessions, to con- 

1 Page 13. 



♦ MEMOIR. XXXIX 

sultalion and remonstrance. It therefore adjourned after 
the lapse of only two months. It is during this time, 
that the five letters in the present volume which bear 
date in 1774, were written. They furnish a lively exhi- 
bition of the state of public feeling in Massachusetts. 
That dated on the 14th of September, is particularly 
interesting, as it gives an account of the securing the 
gunpowder from the British, in her own town of 
Braintree, as well as a highly characteristic trait of New 
England, in the refusal to cheer on a Sunday. The 
last of this series, dated on the 16th of October, 
shows that all remaining hopes of peace and reconcilia- 
tion were fast vanishing from her mind ; and in an af- 
fecting manner she " bids adieu to domestic felicity per- 
haps until the meeting with her husband in another 
world, since she looks forward to nothing further in this 
than sacrifices, as the result of the impending contest."! 
The second meeting of the Congress, which took place 
in May, 1775, was marked by events which wholly 
changed the nature of its deliberations. Up to that pe- 
riod, the struggle had been only a dispute. It then took 
the more fearful shape of a war. Mr. Adams left his 
house and family at Braintree on the 14th of April, only 
five days before the memorable incident at Lexington, 
which was a signal for the final appeal to arms. The 
news of the affair reached him at Hartford, on his way 
to Philadelphia. General Gage had planned his attack 
upon Lexington with the knowledge that John Hancock 
and Samuel Adams, two of the delegates to the general 
Congress, were in that place at the time ; and it was prob- 
ably one of his objects to seize them, if they could be 
found. Gordon, the historian, attributes their escape 

1 Page 26. 



Xl MEMOIR. 

only to a friendly warning given them by a woman re- 
siding in Boston, but " unequally yoked in politics." 
There was nearly the same reason for apprehension on 
the part of John Adams. His house was situated still 
nearer to Boston, could be more easily approached by 
water, and his family, if not he himself, was known to 
be residing there. Under these circumstances, what the 
feelings of Mrs. Adams, left with the care of four small 
children, the eldest not ten years of age, must have been, 
may readily be conceived. But the letters, in which she 
describes them, bring the idea home to the mind with 
still greater force. She tells us, that, upon the separation 
from her husband, " her heart had felt like a heart of 
lead," and that " she never trusts herself long with the 
terrors that sometimes intrude themselves upon her;" 
that " since the never-to-be-forgotten day of his departure, 
the 14th of April, nothing had agitated her so much as the 
news of the arrival of recruits ;" and that, " she lives in 
continual expectation of alarms." Neither were these ap- 
prehensions altogether groundless. The letter of the 4th 
of May mentions that Colonel Quincy's family, whose res- 
idence was nearer to the water-side than hers, had taken 
refuge for one night with her. That of the 24th, gives a 
highly vivid picture of the consternation into which the 
whole town was thrown by a party of British, foraging 
upon an island in the harbour, close upon the town. 
Then follow the account of the battle on Bunker's Hill, 
and the burning of Charlestown, dreadful events to those 
in the immediate vicinity of Boston and to herself; yet, in 
the midst of them, the writer adds, that she is "distressed, 
but not dismayed," and that " she has been able to main- 
tain a calmness and presence of mind, and hopes she 
shall, let the exigency of the time be what it will." i 

1 Pages 30-43. 



MEMOIR. Xli 

But it is supei-fluous to endeavour to heighten the pic- 
ture given in the letters with so much distinctness. Mr. 
Adams seems to have been startled on the arrival of the 
intelligence at Hartford. Conscious, however, that his re- 
turn would rather tend to add to, than diminish, the hazard 
to which his family was exposed, he contented himself 
with writing encouragement, and, at the same time, his 
directions in case of positive danger. " In a cause which 
interests the whole globe," he says, "at a time when my 
friends and country are in such keen distress, I am scarce- 
ly ever interrupted in the least degree by apprehensions 
for my personal safety. I am often concerned for you 
and our dear babes, surrounded, as you are, by people 
who are too timorous, and too much susceptible of alarms. 
Many fears and jealousies and imaginary evils will be 
suggested to you, but I hope you will not be impressed 
by them. In case of real danger, of which you cannot 
fail to have previous intimations, fly to the woods with 
our children." 

Mr. Adams very well knew to whom he was recom- 
mending such an appalling alternative, the very idea of 
which would have been intolerable to many women. 
The trial Mrs, Adams was called to undergo from the fears 
of those immediately around her, was one in addition to 
that caused by her own apprehensions ; a trial, it may be 
remarked, of no ordinary nature ; since it demands the ex- 
ercise of a presence of mind and accuracy of judgment in 
distinguishing the false from the true, that falls to the lot 
of few even of the stronger sex. It is the tendency of 
women in general, to suffer quite as much from anxiety 
occasioned by the activity of the imagination, as if it was, 
in every instance, founded upon reasonable cause. 

But the sufferings of this remarkable year were not 
limited to the mind alone. The terrors of war were ac- 



Xlii MEMOIR. 

companied with the ravages of pestilence. Mr. Adams 
was at home during the period of adjournment of the 
Congress, which was only for the month of August ; but 
scarcely had he crossed his threshold, when the dysentery, 
a disease vvhich had already signified its approach in scat- 
tering instances about the neighbourhood of the besieg- 
ed town of Boston where it had commenced, assumed a 
highly epidemic character, and marked its victims in ev- 
ery family. A younger brother of Mr. Adams had fallen 
among the earliest in the town ; but it was not till his de- 
parture for Philadelphia, that almost every member of his 
own household was seized. The letters written during 
the month of September, 1775, besides being exclusively 
personal, are too uniformly mournful in their tone to be 
suitable for insertion in full in the present collection ; yet 
it would be failing to give an accurate idea of the charac- 
ter of Mrs. Adams, to omit a notice of them altogether. 
A few extracts, reserved for this personal narrative, have 
been thought likely to answer the purpose better than if 
they were submitted in full to the public eye. 

On the 8th of September, she commences thus; 

" Since you left me, I have passed through great distress 
both of body and mind ; and whether greater is to be my 
portion, Heaven only knows. You may remember Isaac 
was unwell when you went from home. His disorder 
increased, until a violent dysentery was the consequence 
of his complaints. There was no resting-place in the 
house for his terrible groans. He continued in this state 
nearly one week, when his disorder abated, and we have 
now hopes of his recovery. Two days after he was sick, 
I was seized in a violent manner. Had I known you were 
at Watertown, I should have sent Bracket for you. I 
suffered greatly between my inclination to have you re- 
turn, and my fear of sending, lest you should be a par- 



MEMOIR. xliii 

taker of the common calamity. After three days, an 
abatement of my disease relieved me from that anxiety. 
The next person in the same week, was Susy ; her we 
carried home, and hope she will not be very bad. Our 
little Tommy was the next, and he lies very ill now. Yes- 
terday Patty was seized. Our house is a hospital in every 
part, and, what with my own weakness and distress of 
mind for my family, I have been unhappy enough. And 
such is the distress of the neighbourhood, that I can 
scarcely find a well person to assist me in looking after 
the sick." 

On the 16th, after saying that her letter will be only a 
bill of mortality, and that, of all the members of her 
household, one only had escaped the disorder, she adds ; 

" The dread upon the minds of people of catching the 
distemper is almost as great as if it was the small-pox. I 
have been distressed, more than ever I was in my life, to 
procure watchers and to get assistance. We have been 
four Sabbaths without any meeting. Thus does pesti- 
lence travel in the rear of war, to remind us of our entire 
dependence upon that Being, who not only directeth the 
'arrow by day,' but has also at His command ' the pesti- 
lence which walketh in darkness.' So uncertain and so 
transitory are all the enjoyments of life, that, were it not 
for the tender connexions which bind us, would it not be 
a folly to wish for a continuance here ? " 

On the 25th, she mentions the illness of her mother. 

" I sit down with a heavy heart to write to you. I 
have had no other since you left me. Woe follows 
woe, and one affliction treads upon the heels of another. 
My distress in my own family having in some measure 
abated, it is excited anew upon that of my dear mother. 
Her kindness brought her to see me every day when 
I was ill, and our little Thomas. She has taken the dis- 



Xliv MEMOIR. 

order, and lies so bad, that we have little hope of her re- 
covery." 

On the 29th ; 

" It is allotted me to go from the sick and almost dying 
bed of one of the best of parents, to my ov^^n habitation, 
where again I behold the same scene, only varied by a 
remoter connexion, 

' A bitter change, severer for severe.' 
You can more easily conceive than I describe, what are 
the sensations of my heart when absent from either, con- 
tinually expecting a messenger with the fatal tidings." 

Then follows the letter of the 1st of October, which, 
as making the climax of her distress, is inserted at length 
in this volume.i The following week, Patty, the female 
domestic mentioned as the other sick person, also died ; 
after which, there appears to have been no return of 
the disease. But among all the trying scenes of the war 
of the Revolution, it is doubtful whether any much ex- 
ceeded this. 

" The desolation of war is not so distressing," she 
writes, "as the havoc made by the pestilence. Some 
poor parents are mourning the loss of three, four, and 
five children ; and some families are wholly stripped of 
every member." 

Such as these are the kinds of trial, of which his- 
tory takes little or no note, yet in which female fortitude 
is most severely exercised. Without designing to detract 
from the unquestioned merit of that instrument, it must 
nevertheless be admitted, that the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, called by the celebrated John Randolph "a 
fanfaronade of abstractions," might very naturally be ex- 
pected to reward the efforts of its signers with a crown 

I Page 67. 



MEMOIR. Xlv 

of immortality ; whilst the very large share of the cost of 
maintaining it, wrung from the bleeding hearts of the 
women of the Revolution, was paid without any hope or 
expectation of a similar compensation. 

Mr. Adams was again at home in the month of Decem- 
ber, during the sessions of the Congress, which were now 
continued without intermission. It was upon his departure 
for the third time that the long and very remarkable let- 
ter bearing date March 2d, 1776,1 and continued through 
several days, was written ; a letter composed in the 
midst of the din of war, and describing hopes and fears 
in a manner deeply interesting. With this the descrip- 
tion of active scenes in the war terminates. The British 
force soon afterwards evacuated Boston and Massachu- 
setts, which did not again become the field of military 
action. The correspondence now changes its character. 
From containing accounts of stirring events directly un- 
der the writer's eye, the letters assume a more private 
form, and principally relate to the management of the 
farm and the household. Few of these would be likely 
to amuse the general reader, yet some are necessary as 
specimens of a portion of the author's character. Mr. 
Adams was never a man of large fortune. His profession, 
which had been a source of emolument, was now entirely 
taken away from him ; and his only dependence for the 
support of his family was in the careful husbanding of the 
means in actual possession. It is not giving to his wife 
too much credit to affirm, that by her prudence through 
the years of the Revolution, and indeed during the whole 
period when the attention of her husband was engrossed 
by public affairs, she saved him from the mortification 
in his last days, which some of those who have been, like 

1 Page 87. 



Xlvi MEMOIR. 

him, elevated to the highest situations in the country, 
have, for want of such care, not altogether escaped. 

In the month of November, 1777, Mr. Adams again 
visited his home, and never afterwards rejoined Con- 
gress ; for tliat body, in his absence, had elected him to 
perform a duty in a distant land. Tliis was destined to 
furnish a severe trial to the fortitude of Mrs. Adams. 
On the 25th of October, she had written a letter to him, 
it being the anniversary of their wedding-day, in which 
she notices the fact that " out of thirteen years of their 
married life, three had been passed in a state of separa- 
tion." Yet in these years, the distance between them had. 
never been very great, and the means of communication 
almost always reasonably speedy and certain. She appears 
little to have anticipated, that in a few short weeks she 
was to be deprived of even these compensations, and to 
send her husband to a foreign country, over seas covered 
with the enemy's ships. " I very well remember," she 
says, in an earlier letter, " when the eastern circuits of the 
courts, which lasted a month, were thought an age, and 
an absence of three months, intolerable ; but we are car- 
ried from step to step, and from one degree to another, 
to endure that which first we think insupportable." It 
was in exact accordance with this process, that the sepa- 
rations of half a year or more were to be followed by 
those which lasted many years, and the distance from 
Boston to Philadelphia or Baltimore was lengthened to 
Paris and a different quarter of the globe. Upon the re- 
ception of the news of his appointment as Joint Com- 
missioner at the Court of France, in the place of Silas 
Deane, Mr. Adams lost no time in making his arrange- 
ments for the voyage. But it was impossjible for him to 
think of risking his wife and children all at once with 
him in so perilous an enterprise. The frigate Boston^ 



MEMOIR. xlvii 

a small, and not very good vessel, mounting twenty-eight 
guns, had been ordered to transport him to his destina- 
tion. The British fleet, stationed at Newport, perfectly 
well knew the circumstances under which she was going, 
and was on the watch to favor the new Commissioner 
with a fate similar to that afterwards experienced by Mr. 
Laurens. The political attitude of France still remained 
equivocal. Hence, on every account it seemed advisable 
that Mr. Adatns should go upon his mission alone. He 
left the shores of his native town to embark in the frigate 
in February, 1778, accompanied only by his eldest son, 
John Quincy Adams, then a boy not quite eleven years 
of age. 

It is not often that even upon that boisterous ocean a 
voyage combines greater perils of war and of the ele- 
ments, than did this of the Boston. Yet it is by no means 
unlikely, that the lightning which struck the frigate, 
and the winds that nearly sent it to the bottom, were ef- 
fective instruments to deter the enemy from a pursuit 
which threatened to end in capture. This is not how- 
ever the place to enlarge upon this story. It is allud- 
ed to only as connected with the uneasiness experi- 
enced by Mrs. Adams, who was left alone to meditate 
upon the hazard to which her husband was exposed. 
Her letter, written not long after the sailing of the frigate, 
distinctly shows her feelings.i But we find by it, that, to 
all the causes for anxiety which would naturally have oc- 
curred to her mind, there was superadded one growing 
out of a rumor then in circulation, that some British 
emissary had made an attempt upon the life of Dr. Frank- 
lin whilst acting at Paris in the very commission, of which 
her husband had been made a part. This was a kind of 

1 Page 116. 



Xlviii MEMOIR. 

apprehension as new as it was distressing ; one too, the 
vague nature of which tended infinitely to multiply those 
terrors that had a better foundation in reality. 

The news of the surrender of General Burgoyne had 
done more to hasten the desired acknowledgment, by 
France, of the independence of the United States, than 
all the efforts which Commissioners could have made. 
Upon his arrival in France, Mr. Adams found the great 
object of his mission accomplished, and himself, conse- 
quently, left with little or no occupation. He did not wait 
in Europe to know the further wishes of Congress, but 
returned home in August, 1779. Only a brief enjoyment 
of his society by his family was the result, inasmuch as 
in October he was again ordered by Congress to go to 
Europe, and there to wait until Great Britain should 
manifest an inclination to tx'eat with him, and terminate 
the war. In obedience to these directions, he sailed in 
November on board of the French frigate Sensible, tak- 
ing with him upon this occasion his two eldest sons. The 
day of his embarkation is marked by a letter in the pres- 
ent collection, quite touching in its character.! 

The ordinary occupations of the female sex are neces- 
sarily of a kind which must ever prevent it from partaking 
largely of the action of life. However keenly women 
may think or feel, there is seldom an occasion when the 
sphere of their exertions can with propriety be extended 
much beyond the domestic hearth or the social circle. 
Exactly here are they to be seen most in their glory. 
Three or four years passed whilst Mrs. Adams was living 
in the utmost seclusion of country life, during which, on 
account of the increasing vigilance of British cruisers, 
she very seldom heard from her husband. The material 

1 Page 142. 



MEMOIR. xlix 

for interesting letters was proportionately small, and yet 
there was no time when she was more usefully occupied. 
It is impossible to omit all notice of this period, however 
deficient it may prove in variety. The depreciation of the 
Continental paper money, the difficulties in the way of 
managing the property of her husband, her own isolation, 
and the course of puVlic events in distant parts of the coun- 
try, form her constant topics. Only a small number of the 
letters which discuss them, yet enough to show her sit- 
uation at this period, have been admitted into this volume. 
They are remarkable, because they display the readiness 
with which she could devote herself to the most opposite 
duties, and the cheerful manner in which she could ac- 
commodate herself to the difficulties of the times. She 
is a farmer cultivating the land, and discussing the weather 
and the crops ; a merchant reporting prices-current and 
the rates of exchange, and directing the making up of in- 
voices; a politician speculating upon the probabilities of 
peace or war ; and a mother writing the most exalted 
sentiments to her son. All of these pursuits she adopts 
together ; some from choice, the rest from the necessity 
of the case ; and in all she appears equally well. Yet, 
among the letters of this period, there will be found two 
or three, which rise in their tone very far above the rest, 
and which can scarcely fail to awaken the sympathy of 
the coldest reader.! 

The signature of the Treaty of Peace with Great Brit- 
ain, which fully established the Independence of the Uni- 
ted States, did not terminate the residence of Mr. Adams 
in Europe. He was ordered by Congress to remain 
there, and, in conjunction with Dr. Franklin and Mr. 
Jefferson, to establish by treaty commercial relations with 
foreign powers. And not long afterwards a new com- 

i Pages 168, 172, 175. 



1 MEMOIR. 

mission was sent him as the first representative of the 
nation to him who had been their King. The duties 
prescribed seemed likely to require a residence sufficient- 
ly long to authorize him in a request that Mrs. Adams 
should join him in Europe. After some hesitation, she 
finally consented ; and, in June, 1784, she sailed from 
Boston in a merchant vessel bound to London. The 
journal of her voyage, given in a letter to her sister, Mrs. 
Cranch, makes a part of the present coUection.i From 
this date the correspondence assumes a new character, 
Mrs. Adams found herself, at the age of forty, suddenly 
transplanted into a scene wholly new. From a life of 
the utmost retirement, in a small and quiet country town 
of New England, she was at once transferred to the 
busy and bustling scenes of the populous and wealthy 
cities of Europe. Not only was her position novel to 
herself, hut there had been nothing like it among her 
countrywomen. She was the first representative of her 
sex from the United States at the Court of Great Britain. 
The impressions made upon her mind were therefore re- 
ceived when it was uncommonly open, and free from the 
ordinary restraints which an established routine of prece- 
dents is apt to create. Her residence in France during 
the first year of her European experience appears to have 
been much enjoyed, notwithstanding the embarrassment 
felt by her from not speaking the language. That in 
England, which lasted three years, was somewhat affect- 
ed by the temper of the sovereign. George and his 
Queen could not get over the mortification attending the 
loss of the American Colonies, nor at all times suppress 
the manifestation of it, when the presence of their Minis- 
ter forced the subject on their recollection. Mrs. Ad- 
ams's account of her presentation is among the letters of 

1 Page 199. 



MEMOIR. li 

this period.i It was not more than civilly met on the part 
of the Queen, whose subsequent conduct was hardly so 
good as on that occasion. Mrs. Adams appears never to 
have forgotten it; for at a much later period, when, in 
consequence of the French Revolution, the throne of 
England was thought to be in danger, she writes to her 
daughter with regret at the prospect for the country, but 
without sympathy for the Queen. "Humiliation for 
Charlotte," she says, "is no sorrow for me. She richly 
deserves her full portion for the contempt and scorn 
which she took pains to discover." Of course, the cour- 
tiers followed the lead thus given to them, and the im- 
pression made against America at the very outset of its 
national career has hardly been effaced down to this day. 
It is to be observed, however, that one circumstance con- 
tributed to operate against the situation of the first Amer- 
ican Minister to Great Britain, which has affected none of 
his successors. This was the conduct of the States whilst 
yet under the Confederation, justifying the general im- 
pression that they were incapable of the self-government, 
the right to which they had so zealously fought to obtain. 
Of the effect of this upon herself, Mrs. Adams will be 
found frequently to speak. 

Yet, notwithstanding these drawbacks, she seems to 
have enjoyed much her residence in the mother country. 
Her letters to her sisters during this period have been ad- 
mitted almost in extenso in the present volume. They 
describe no scenes of particular novelty to the reading 
public, it is true ; but they delineate in so natural and easy 
a manner the impressions received fi'om objects new to 
the writer, that it is hoped they will fully reward perusal. 
The [)eriod was not without its peculiar character to Amer- 
icans. Their country, exhausted by her efforts in the war 

1 Page 293. 



Hi MEMOIR. 

of Independence, had not yet put herself in the way of 
restoration by adopting a good form of government. It 
was even a matter of doubt whether her liberty was likely 
to prove a blessing, or to degenerate into a curse. On the 
other hand, France, Holland, and Great Britain respective- 
ly presented an outward spectacle of wealth and prosper- 
ity not perceptibly impaired by the violent struggle be- 
tween them, that had just terminated. This contrast is 
frequently marked in the letters of Mrs. Adams ; but 
the perception of it does not appear to have in any de- 
gree qualified the earnestness of her attacFmient to her 
own very modest home. " Whatever is to be the fate of 
our country," she says to her sister, " we have determin- 
ed to come home and share it with you." i She had very 
litde of that susceptibility of transfer, which is a charac- 
teristic, not less of the cultivated and wealthy class of our 
countrymen, who cling to the luxury of the old world, 
than of the adventurous and hardy sons of labor, who 
carve out for themselves a new home in the forests of 
the West. 

The return of Mr. Adams, with his family, to the Unit- 
ed States, the liberty for which was granted by Congress 
to his own request, was simultaneojis with the adoption 
of the present Constitution by the decision of the rati- 
fying Conventions. Upon the organization of the gov- 
ernment under the new form, he was elected to fill the 
office of Vice-President, that of President being, by a 
more general consent, awarded to General Washington. 
By this arrangement, a residence at the seat of govern- 
ment during the sessions of the Senate was made neces- 
sary ; and, as that was fixed first at New York, and then 
at Philadelphia, Mrs. Adams enjoyed an opportunity to 
mix freely with the society of both places. Some of her 

1 Pages 369, 370. 



MEMOIR. liii 

letters descriptive of it have been selected for publication 
in this collection. 

The voluntary retirement of General Washington, at 
the end of eight years, from the Presidency, was the 
signal for the great struggle between the two political 
parties, which had been rapidly maturing their organi- 
zation, during his term of administration. Mr. Adams 
was elected as his successor by a bare majority of the 
electoral colleges, and against the inclinations of one sec- 
tion even of that party which supported him. The open 
defection of that section, at the following election, turned 
the scale against him, and brought Mr. Jefferson into his 
place. Of course, the letters of Mrs. Adams, at this pe- 
riod, largely partake of the excitement of the day. From 
early life, she had learnt to take a deep interest in the 
course of political affairs, and it is not to be supposed that 
this would decline, whilst her husband was a chief actor 
in the scene, and a butt for the most malignant shafts 
which party animosity could throw. As it is not the 
design of this publication to revive any old disputes, most 
of these letters have been excluded from it. Two or 
three exceptions, however, have been made. The first 
is the letter of the 8th of February, 1797, the day upon 
which the votes for President were counted, and Mr. 
Adams, as Vice-President, was required by law to an- 
nounce himself the President elect for the ensuing term. 
This, though extremely short, appears to the Editor to be 
the gem of the collection ; for the exalted feeling of the 
moment shines out with all the lustre of ancient patriot- 
ism. Perhaps there is not, among the whole number of 
her letters, one which, in its spirit, brings so strongly to 
mind, as this does, the celebrated Roman lady, whose 
signature she at one time assumed ; whilst it is chastened 



liv 



MEMOIR. 



by a sentiment of Christian humility, of which ancient 
history furnishes no example. 

At this time, the health of Mrs. Adams, which had 
never been very firm, began decidedly to fail.. Her resi- 
dence at Philadelphia had not been favorable, as it had 
subjected her to the attack of an intermittent fever, from 
the effects of which she was never afterwards perfectly 
fi-ee. The desire to enjoy the bracing air of her native 
climate, as well as to keep together the private property 
of her husband, upon which she early foresaw that he 
would be obliged to rely for their support in their last 
years, prompted her to reside, much of the time, at Quin- 
cy. Such was the name now given to that part of the 
ancient town of Braintree, in which she had always liv- 
ed. Yet, when at the seat of Government, whether in 
Philadelphia or Washington, the influence of her kindly 
feelings and cheerful temper did much to soften the as- 
perities of the time. Of her early sentiments of Mr. Jef- 
ferson, there are several proofs given in this volume ; sen- 
timents, which she did every thing in her power to main- 
tain up to the last minute of their intercourse, and which 
she qualified only for reasons given very frankly to him- 
self at a later period, when he requested to know them. 
A good idea of the privations and discomforts, to which 
she was subjected in the President's House at Washing- 
ton, when that place had scarcely emerged from the 
primitive forest, may be formed from one or two other 
letters, which, in this view, are excepted from the gener- 
al exclusion, i In the midst of public or private troubles, 
the buoyant spirit of Mrs. Adams never forsook her. 
"I am a tnortal enemy," she writes upon one occasion to 
her husband, " to any thing but a cheerful countenance 
and a merry heart, which, Solomon tells us, does good like 

1 Pages 430, 432. 



MEMOIR. Iv 

a medicine." This spirit contributed greatly to lift up his 
heart, when surrounded by difficulties and danger, ex- 
posed to open hostility and secret detraction, and resist- 
ing a torrent of invective, such as it may well be doubted 
whether any other individual in public station in the 
United States has ever tried to stem. It was this spirit, 
which soothed his wounded feelings, when the country, 
which he had served in the full consciousness of the 
perfect honesty of his motives, threw him off, and signi- 
fied its preference for other statesmen. There oiten are, 
even in this life, more compensations for the severest of 
the troubles that afflict mankind, than we are apt to think. 
It may be questioned whether Mr. Adams's more suc- 
cessful rival, who, in the day of his power, wielded popu- 
lar masses with far greater skill and success than he, 
ever realized, in the hours of his subsequent retire- 
ment, any consolation for his pecuniary embarrassments, 
like that which Mr. Adams enjoyed from the faithful de- 
votedness of his wife, and, it may be added, the success- 
ful labors of his son. 

There were many persons, in the lifetime of the par- 
ties, who ascribed to Mrs. Adams a degree of influence 
over the public conduct of her husband, far greater than 
there was any foundation for in truth. Perhaps it is giv- 
ing more than its due importance to this idea to take any 
notice at all of it in this place. But the design of this 
Memoir is to set forth, in as clear a light as possible, 
the character of its subject ; and this cannot well be 
done without a full explanation of her personal relations 
to those about her. That her opinions, even upon public 
affairs, had at all times great weight with her husband, is 
unquestionably true, for he frequently marked upon her 
letters his testimony to their solidity; but there is no 
evidence, that they either originated or materially altered 



Ivi MEMOIR. 

any part of the course he had laid out for himselC 
Whenever she differed in sentiment from him, which 
was sometimes the case, she perfectly well understood 
her own position, and that the best way of recommend- 
ing her views was by entire concession. The character 
of Mr. Adams is clearly visible in his own papers. Ar- 
dent, vehement in support of what he believed to be right, 
easily roused to anger by opposition, but sincere, placa- 
ble, and generous, when made conscious of having com- 
mitted the slightest wrong, there is no individual of this 
time, about whom there are so few concealments, of either 
faults or virtues. Instances of his imprudence are vis- 
ible, and of the mode in which his wife treated them, 
in at least two letters of this volume.! She was certain 
that a word said, not at the mouient of irritation, but im- 
mediately after it had passed, would receive great con- 
sideration from him. She therefore waited the favorable 
time, and thus, by the calmness of her judgment, exer- 
cised a species of negative influence, which often pre- 
vented evil consequences from momentary indiscretion. 
But her power extended no farther, nor did she seek to 
make it do so, and in this consisted her principal merit. 
Perhaps it may be added, that, to men of ardent and ex- 
citable temperament, no virtue is more necessary in a 
wife, and none more essential to the happiness and pros- 
perity of both the parties, than that which has been now 
described. 

From the year 1801 down to the day of her death, 
which happened on the 28th of October, 1818, she re- 
mained uninterruptedly at home in Quincy. This period 
furnishes abundance of famiUar letters. Her interest in 
public affairs did not cease with the retirement of her 
husband. She continued to write to her friends her free 

I Pages 271, 357. 



BIEMOIR. Ivii 

opinions, both of men and measures, perhaps with a 
more sustained hand on account of the share her son was 
then taking in politics. But these letters bring us down to 
times so recent, and they contain so many allusions to 
existing persons and matters of a domestic and wholly 
private nature, that they are not deemed suitable for pub- 
lication, at least at present. On some accounts, this is 
perhaps to be regretted. None of her letters present a 
more agreeable picture of life, or a more characteristic 
idea of their author, than these. The old age of Mrs. 
Adams was not one of grief and repining, of clouds 
and darkness. Her cheerfulness continued, with the full 
possession of her faculties, to the last; and her sunny 
spirit enlivened the small social circle around her, bright- 
ened the solitary hours of her husband, and spread the 
influence of its example over the town where she lived. 
" Yesterday," she writes to a granddaughter on the 26th of 
October, 1814, " yesterday completes half a century since 
I entered the married state, then just your age. I have 
great cause of thankfulness, that I have lived so long, and 
enjoyed so large a portion of happiness as has been my lot. 
The greatest source of unhappiness I have known in that 
period has arisen from the long and cruel separations, 
which I was called, in a time of war and with a young 
family around me, to submit to." Yet she had not been 
without her domestic afflictions. A daughter lost in infan- 
cy ; a son, grown up to manhood, who died in 1800 ; and, 
thirteen years afterwards, the death of her only remaining 
daughter, the wife of Colonel W. S. Smith, furnished 
causes of deep and severe grief, which threw a shadow of 
sadness over the evening of her life. But they produced no 
permanent gloom, nor did they prevent her from enjoying 
the consolations to be found in gratitude to the Divine 
Being for the blessings that still remained to her. She 



Iviii MEMOIR. 

was rewarded for the painful separation from her eldest 
son, when he went abroad in the public service under 
circumstances which threatened a long absence, by sur- 
viving the whole period of eight years that it lasted, and 
witnessing his return to receive from the Chief Magis- 
trate elect, Mr. Monroe, the highest testimony he could 
give him of his confidence. This was the fulfilment of the 
wish nearest to her heart. The letters addressed to him 
when a youth, which have been admitted into this vol- 
ume, will abundantly show the deep interest she had felt 
in his success. His nomination as Secretary of State 
was the crowning mercy of her life. Had she survived 
the attack of the fever which proved fatal, it is true that 
she might have seen him exalted still higher, to that sta- 
tion which her husband and his father had held before 
him ; but it is very doubtful whether her satisfaction 
would have been at all enhanced. The commencement 
of Mr. Monroe's administration was marked by a unan- 
imity of the popular voice, the more gratifying to her 
because it was something so new. Later times have only 
carried us back to party divisions, of the bitterness of 
which she had during her lifetime tasted too largely to 
relish even the little of sweet which they might have to 
give. 

The obsequies of Mrs. Adams were attended by a 
great concourse of people, who voluntarily came to pay 
this last tribute to her memory. Several brief but beauti- 
ful notices of her appeared in the newspapers of the d|f, 
and a sermon was preached by the late Reverend Dr. 
Kirkland, then President of Harvard University, which 
closed with a delicate and affecting testimony to her 
worth. "Ye will seek to mourn, bereaved friends," 
it says, " as becomes Christians, in a manner worthy of 
the person you lament. You do, then, bless the Giver of 



MEMOIR. lix 

life, that the course of your endeared and honored friend 
was so long and so bright ; that she entered so fully into 
the spirit of those injunctions which we have explained, 
and was a minister of blessings to all within her influ- 
ence. You are soothed to reflect, that she was sensi- 
ble of the many tokens of divine goodness which marked 
her lot ; that she received the good of her existence with 
a cheerful and grateful heart; that, when called to weep, 
she bore adversity with an equal mind ; ^at she used 
the world as not abusing it to excess, improving well her 
time, talents, and opportunities, and, though desired long- 
er in this world, was fitted for a better happiness than 
this world can give." 

It often happens, that, when the life of a woman is the 
topic of discussion, men think it necessary either to fall 
into a tone of affected gallantry and unmeaning compli- 
ment, or to assume the extreme of unnatural and extrava- 
gant eulogy. Yet there seems no reason, in the nature 
of things, why the same laws of composition should not 
be made to apply to the one sex as to the other. It has 
been tiie wish of the Editor to avoid whatever might be 
considered as mere empty praise of his subject, in which, 
if he has not altogether succeeded, some allowance may, 
it is hoped, be made for the natural bias under which he 
writes. It has been his purpose to keep far within the 
line marked out by the great master of composition, who, 
in allusion to the first instance in Rome when a woman, 
Popilia, was publicly praised by her son Catulus, defines 
the topics which may be treated with propriety upon any 
similar occasion.^ He does not claim for the letters now 

1 «' Ex his enim fontibus, unde omnia ornate dicendi praecepta sumun ^ 
tur, licebit eiiatn laudalionem ornare, neque ilia elementa desiderare; 
quae ut nemo tradat, quis est, qui nesciat, quae sint in homine laudan- 
da ? Positis enim iis rebus, quas Crassus iis illius orationis sua-, quam 



Ix MEMOIR. 

published to the world, that they are models^ of style, 
though in behalf of some of them such a claim might, per- 
haps, be reasonably urged ; nor yet that they contain much 
novel or important historical information. What merit 
they may have will be found in the pictures of social life 
which they present, during a period daily becoming more 
interesting as it recedes from us, and in the high moral 
and religious tone which uniformly pervades them. They 
are here given to the public exactly as they were written, 
with only those corrections or omissions which were ab- 
solutely necessary either to perfect the sense, or to avoid 
subjects exclusively personal. It was the habit of the 
writer to make first a rough draft of what she intended 
to say, and from this to form a fair copy for her coiTe- 
spondent; but in the process she altered so njuch of the 
original, that, in every instance where the two have been 
compared, they are by no means the same thing. Only 
in one or two cases, and for particular reasons, has the 
loss of the real letter been supplied by the first draft. 
The principal difference between them ordinarily is, that 
the former is much the most full. Frequently, it will 
be seen that she did not copy, the task being, as she 
testifies in the postscript, extremely irksome to her. 

The value attached to her letters by some of her corre- 
spondents, even during her lifetime, was so considerable, 

contra collegam censor habuit, principio dixit 5 ' Quae natura. aut fortunS. 
darentur hominibus, in Us rebus vinci posse animo cequo pati : quae 
ipsi sibi homines parare possent, in Us rebus se pati vinci nan posse ; ' 
qui laudabit quempiain, iiitelliget, exponenda sibi esse fortunae bona. 
Ea sunt, generis, pecuniae, propinquorum, amicorum, opum, valetudinis, 
formas, virium, ingenii, cselerarunique rerum, quis sunt aut corporis, aut 
extranae: si liabuerit, bene his usum : si non habuerit, saiiienter caruis- 
se : si amiserit, moderate tulisse. Deinde, quid sapienter is, quem lau- 
det, quid liberaliter, quid fortiter, quid juste, quid magnifice, quid pie' 
quid grate, quid humaniter, quid denique cum aliqua, virtute, aut fecerit 
aut tulerit." — Cicero, de Orator e, II. 11. 



LETTERS 



LETTERS 



TO MRS. H. LINCOLN.^ 

Weymouth, 5 October, 1761. 

MY DEAR FRIEND, 

Does not my friend think me a stupid girl, when 
she has kindly offered to correspond with me, that 
I should be so senseless as not to accept the offer? 
Senseless and stupid I would confess myself, and 
that to the greatest degree, if I did not foresee the 
many advantages I shall receive from corresponding 
with a lady of your known prudence and under- 
standing. 

I gratefully accept your offer ; although I may be 
charged with vaiiity in pretending to entertain you 
with my scrawls ; yet I know your generosity is such, 

1 For this letter I have to acknowledge myself indebted to the 
kindness of Miss E. S. Quincy, a grand-niece of the lady to whom 
it was addressed. After the death of Dr. Lincoln she was mar- 
ried to Ebenezer Storer, Esq., of Boston, and died only a few 
years ago. 



4 LETTERS. 

that, like a kind parent, you will bury in oblivion 
all my imperfections. I do not aim at entertaining. 
I write merely for the instruction and edification 
which I shall receive, provided you honor me with 
your correspondence. 

Your letter I received, and, believe me, it has not 
been through forgetfulness, that I have not before 
this time returned you my sincere thanks for the kind 
assurance you then gave me of continued friendship. 
You have, I hope, pardoned my suspicions ; they 
arose from love. What persons in their right senses 
would calmly, and without repining or even inquir- 
ing into the cause, submit to lose their greatest tem- 
poral good and happiness ? for thus the divine, Dr. 
Young, looks upon a true friend, when he says, 

'' A friend is worth all hazards we can run. 
Poor is the friendless master of a world 3 
A world in purchase for a friend is gain." 

Who, that has once been favored with your friend- 
ship, can be satisfied with the least diminution of it ? 
Not those who value it according to its worth. 

You have, like king Ahasuerus, held forth, though 
not a golden sceptre, yet one more valuable, the 
sceptre of friendship, if I may so call it. Like Es- 
ther, I would draw nigh and touch it. Will you 
proceed and say, " What wilt thou ? " and " What 
is thy request .? it shall be even given thee to the 
half of my heart." Why, no. I think I will not 
have so dangerous a present, lest your good man 
should find it out and challenge me ; but, if you 



LETTERS. 



please, I '11 have a place in one corner of it, a place 
well guarded and fortified, or still I shall fear being 
jostled out by him. Now do not deny my request 
on purpose to make me feel the weight of your 
observation, " that we are often disappointed when 
we set our minds upon that which is to yield us 
great happiness." I know it too well already. Daily 
experience teaches me that truth. 

And now let me ask you, my friend, whether you 
do not think, that many of our disappointments and 
much of our unhappiness arise from our forming 
false notions of things and persons. We strangely 
impose upon ourselves ; we create a fairy land of 
happiness. Fancy is fruhful and promises fair, but, 
like the dog in the fable, we catch at a shadow, and 
when we find the disappointment we are vexed, not 
with ourselves, who are really the impostors, but with 
the poor, innocent thing or person of whom we have 
formed such strange ideas. When this is the case, 
I believe we always find, that we have enjoyed more 
pleasure in the anticipation than in the real enjoy- 
ment of our wishes. 

Dr. Young says, " Our wishes give us not our 
wishes." Some disappointments are, indeed, more 
grievous than others. Since they are our lot, let us 
bear them with patience. That person, that cannot 
bear a disappointment, must not live in a world so 
changeable as this, and 't is wise it should be so ; for, 
were we to enjoy a continual prosperity, we should 
be too firmly attached to the world ever to think of 



6 



LETTERS. 



quitting it, and there would be room to fear, that we 
should be so far intoxicated with prosperity as to 
swim smoothly from joy to joy, along life's short cur- 
rent, wholly unmindful of the vast ocean. Eternity. 

If I did not know that it would be adding to the 
length of my letter, I might make some excuse for 
it ; but that and another reason will hinder me. 

You bid me tell one of my sparks (I think that 
was the word) to bring me to see you. Why ! I 
believe you think they are as plenty as herrings, 
when, alas ! there is as great a scarcity of them as 
there is of justice, honesty, prudence, and many 
other virtues. I 've no pretensions to one. Wealth, 
wealth is the only thing that is looked after now. 
'T is said Plato thought, if Virtue would appear to 
the world, all mankind would be enamoured with 
her, but now interest governs the world and men 
neglect the golden mean. 

But, to be sober, I should really rejoice to come 
and see you, but if I wait till I get a (what did you 
call 'em ?) I fear you '11 be blind with age. 

I can say, in the length of this epistle, I 've made 
the golden rule mine. Pray, my friend, do not let it 
be long before you write to your ever affectionate 

A. S. 

P. S. My regards to your good man. I 've no 
acquaintance with him, but, if you love him, I do, 
and should be slad to see him. 



LETTERS. 



TO JOHN ADAMS/ 

Weymouth; 16 April, 1764. 

MY FRIEND, 

I THINK I write to you every day. Shall not I make 
my letters very cheap ? Don't you light your pipe 
with them ? I care not if you do. 'T is a pleasure 
to me to write. Yet I wonder I write to you with 
so little restraint, for as a critic I fear you more than 
any other person on earth, and 't is the only charac- 
ter in which I ever did or ever will fear you. What 
say you ? Do you approve of that speech ? Don't 
you think me a courageous being ? Courage is a 
laudable, a glorious virtue in your sex, why not in 
mine ? For my part, I think you ought to applaud 
me for mine. 

Exit Rattle. 

Solus your Diana. 

And now, pray tell me, how you do ? Do you 
feel any venom working in your veins ? Did you 
ever before experience such a feeling ? (This letter 
will be made up with questions, I fancy, not set in 
order before you, neither.) How do you employ 
yourself ? Do you go abroad yet ? Is it not cruel 
to bestow those favors upon others, which I should 
rejoice to receive, yet must be deprived of ? 

1 Mr. Adams was in Boston, undergoing the process, then in 
vogue, of inoculation with the smallpox. 



8 LETTERS. 

I have lately been thinking whether my mamma 
— when I write again I will tell you something. 
Did not you receive a letter to-day by Hannes ? 

This is a right girl's letter, — but I will turn to 
the other side and be sober, if I can. 

But what is bred in the bone will never be out of 
the flesh, (as Lord M. would have said.) 

As I have a good opportunity to send some milk, 
I have not waited for your orders^ lest, if I should 
miss this, I should not catch such another. If you 
want more balm, I can supply you. 

Adieu ; — evermore remember me with the ten- 

derest affection, which is also borne unto you by 

your 

A. Smith. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 
Thursday Eve. Weymouth, 19 April, 1764. 

Why, my good man, thou hast the curiosity of a girl. 
Who could have believed, that only a slight hint 
would have set thy imagination agog in such a man- 
ner. And a fine encouragement I have to unravel 
the mystery as thou callest it. Nothing less, truly, 
than to be told something to my disadvantage. What 
an excellent reward that will be ! In what court of 
justice didst thou learn that equity .? I thank thee, 
friend ; such knowledge as that is easy enough to be 
obtained without paying for it. As to the insinua- 



LETTERS. y 

tion, it doth not give me any uneasiness ; for, if it is 
any thing very bad, I know thou dost not believe it. 
I am not conscious of any harm that I have done or 
wished to any mortal. I bear no malice to any 
being. To my enemies, if any I have, I am willing 
to afford assistance ; therefore towards man I main- 
tain a conscience void of offence. 

Yet by this I mean not that I am faultless. But 
tell me what is the reason, that persons would rather 
acknowledge themselves guilty than be accused by 
others ? Is it because they are more tender of them- 
selves, or because they meet with more favor from 
others when they ingenuously confess ? Let that be 
as it will, there is something which makes it more 
agreeable to condemn ourselves than to be con- 
demned by others. 

But, although it is vastly disagreeable to be ac- 
cused of faults, yet no person ought to be offended 
when such accusations are delivered in the spirit of 
friendship. I now call upon you to fulfil your prom- 
ise, and tell me all my faults both of omission and 
commission, and all the evil you either know or 
think of me. Be to me a second conscience, nor 
put me off to a more convenient season. There can 
be no time more proper than the present. It will be 
harder to erase them when habit has strengthened 
and confirmed them. Do not think I trifle. These 
are really meant as words of truth and soberness. 
For the present, good night. 



10 LETTERS. 

Friday Morning, April 20th. 

What does it signify ? Why may not I visit you 
days as well as nights ? I no sooner close my eyes, 
than some invisible being, swift as the Alborack of 
Mahomet, bears me to you, — I see you, but cannot 
make myself visible to you. That tortures me, but 
it is still worse when I do not come, for I am then 
haunted by half a dozen ugly sprites. One will 
catch me and leap into the sea ; another will carry 
me up a precipice like that which Edgar describes 
in Lear, then toss me down, and, were I not then 
light as the gossamer, I should shiver into atoms ; 
another will be pouring down my throat stuff worse 
than the witches' broth in Macbeth. Where I shall 
be carried next I know not, but I would rather have 
the smallpox by inoculation half a dozen times than 
be sprite d about as I am. What say you ? Can 
you give me any encouragement to come ? By the 
time you receive this I hope from experience you 
will be able to say, that the distemper is but a trifle. 
Think you I would not endure a trifle for the pleas- 
ure of seeing you .? Yes, were it ten times that 
trifle, I would. But my own inclinations must not 
be followed, — to duty I sacrifice them. Yet, O my 
mamma, forgive me if I say, you have forgot or 

never knew but hush, and do you excuse me 

that something I promised you, since it was a speech 
more undutiful than that which I just now stopped 
myself in. For the present, good bye. 



LETTERS. 11 

Friday Evening. 

I hope you smoke your letters well, before you 
deliver them. Mamma is so fearful lest I should 
catch the distemper, that she hardly ever thinks the 
letters are sufficiently purified. Did you never rob 
a bird's nest. Do you remember how the poor bird 
would fly round and round, fearful to come nigh, yet 
not know how to leave the place. Just so they say 
I hover round Tom, whilst he is smoking my letters. 

But heyday, Mr. What 's your name, who taught 
you to threaten so vehemently ? " A character be- 
sides that of a critic, in which if I never did, I al- 
ways hereafter shall fear you." Thou canst not 
prove a villain, impossible, — I, therefore, still insist 
upon it, that I neither do nor can fear thee. For 
my part, I know not that there is any pleasure in 
being feared ; but, if there is, I hope you will be so 
generous as to fear your Diana, that she may at 
least be made sensible of the pleasure. Mr. Ayers 
will bring you this letter and the hag. Do not re- 
pine, — it is filled with balm. 

Here is love, respects, regards, good wishes, — a 
whole wagon load of them, sent you from all the 
good folks in the neighbourhood. 

To-morrow makes the fourteenth day. How many 
more are to come ? I dare not trust myself with 
the thought. Adieu. Let me hear from you by 
Mr. Ayers, and excuse this very bad writing ; if 
you had mended my pen it would have been better. 
Once more, adieu. Gold and silver have I none, 



12 LETTERS. 

but such as I have give I unto thee, — which is the 
affectionate regard of your 

A. S. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 
Weymouth, Sunday Evening, 14 September, 1767. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

The Doctor talks of setting out to-morrow for New 
Braintree. I did not know but that he might chance 
to see you in his way there. I know from the ten- 
der affection you bear me and our little ones, that 
you will rejoice to hear that we are well. Our son 
is much better than when you left home, and our 
daughter rocks him to sleep with the song of " Come, 
papa, come home to brother Johnny." Sunday seems 
a more lonely day to me than any other when you 
are absent; for, though I may be compared to those 
climates which are deprived of the sun half the 
year, yet upon a Sunday you commonly afforded us 
your benign influence. I am now at Weymouth, my 
father brought me here last night ; to-morrow I re- 
turn home, where I hope soon to receive the dearest 
of friends, and the tenderest of husbands, with that 
unabated affection which has for years past, and will 
whilst the vital spark lasts, burn in the bosom of your 
affectionate 

A. Adams. 



LETTERS. 



13 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 19 August, 1774. 
The great distance between us makes the time ap- 
pear very long to me. It seems already a month 
since you left me. The great anxiety I feel for my 
country, for you, and for our family, renders the day 
tedious and the night unpleasant. The rocks and 
quicksands appear upon every side. What course 
you can or will take is all wrapped in the bosom of 
futurity. Uncertainty and expectation leave the 
mind great scope. Did ever any kingdom or state 
regain its liberty when once it was invaded, with- 
out bloodshed ? I cannot think of it without horror. 
Yet we are told, that all the misfortunes of Sparta 
were occasioned by their too great solicitude for 
present tranquillity, and, from an excessive love of 
peace, they neglected the means of making it sure 
and lasting. They ought to have reflected, says Po- 
lybius, that, " as there is nothing more desirable or 
advantageous than peace, when founded in justice 
and honor, so there is nothing more shameful, and 
at the same time more pernicious, when attained by 
bad measures, and purchased at the price of liber- 
ty." I have received a most charming letter from 
our friend Mrs. Warren.^ She desires me to tell you, 

1 Mrs. Mercy Warren, the wife of General James Warren, of 
Plymouth, and the sister of James Otis. 



14 



LETTERS. 



that her best wishes attend you through your jour- 
ney, both as a friend and a patriot, — hopes you will 
have no uncommon difficulties to surmount, or hostile 
movements to impede you, — but, if the Locrians 
should interrupt you, she hopes that you will beware, 
that no future annals may say you chose an ambi- 
tious Philip for your leader, who subverted the noble 
order of the American Amphictyons, and built up a 
monarchy on the ruins of the happy institution. 

I have taken a very great fondness for reading 
Rollin's Ancient History since you left me. I am 
determined to go through with it, if possible, in these 
my days of solitude. I find great pleasure and en- 
tertainment from it, and I have persuaded Johnny to 
read me a page or two every day, and hope he will, 
from his desire to oblige me, entertain a fondness for 
it. We have had a charming rain, which lasted 
twelve hours, and has greatly revived the dying 
fruits of the earth. 

I want much to hear from you. I long impatiently 
to have you upon the stage of action. The first of 
September, or the month of September, perhaps, may 
be of as much importance to Great Britain, as the Ides 
of March were to Caesar. I wish you every public, 
as well as private blessing, and that wisdom which is 
profitable both for instruction and edification, to con- 
duct you in this difficult day. The little flock re- 
member papa, and kindly wish to see him ; so does 

your most affectionate 

Abigail Adams. 



LETTERS. 15 



TO JOHN ADABIS. 

Braintree, 2 September, 1774. 
I AM very impatient to receive a letter from you. 
You indulged me so much in that way in your last 
absence, that I now think I have a right to hear as 
often from you, as you have leisure and opportunity 
to write. I hear that Mr. Adams ^ wrote to his son, 
and the Speaker ^ to his lady ; but perhaps you did 
not know of the opportunity. I suppose you have 
before this time received two letters from me, and 
will write me by the same conveyance. I judge you 
reached Philadelphia last Saturday night. I cannot 
but felicitate you upon your absence a little while 
from this scene of perturbation, anxiety, and distress. 
I own I feel not a little agitated with the accounts 
I have this day received from town ; great commo- 
tions have arisen in consequence of a discovery of a 
traitorous plot of Colonel Brattle's, — his advice to 
Gage, to break every commissioned officer, and to 
seize the province's and town's stock of gunpow- 
der. This has so enraged and exasperated the peo- 
ple, that there is great apprehension of an immediate 
rupture. They have been all in flames ever since 
the new-fangled counsellors have taken their oaths. 
The importance, of which they consider the meet- 

1 Mr. Samuel Adams. Mr. Gushing had been the Speaker of 
the House of Representatives in Massachusetts until chosen a 
delegate to the Congress. 



16 LETTERS. 

ing of the Congress, and the result thereof to the 
community, withholds the arm of vengeance already- 
lifted, which would most certainly fall with accumu- 
lated wrath upon Brattle, were it possible to come 
at him ; — but no sooner did he discover that his 
treachery had taken air, than he fled, not only to 
Boston, but into the camp, for safety. You will, by 
Mr. Tudor, no doubt have a much more accurate 
account than I am able to give you ; but one thing I 
can inform you of, which perhaps you may not have 
heard, namely, Mr. Vinton, our Sheriff, it seems, re- 
ceived one of those twenty warrants,^ which were is- 
sued by Messrs. Goldthwait and Price, which has cost 
them such bitter repentance and humble acknowl- 
edgments, and which has revealed the great secret 
of their attachment to the liberties of their country, 
and their veneration and regard for the good will of 
their countrymen. See their address to Hutchinson 
and Gage. This warrant, which was for Stough- 
ton,'* Vinton carried and delivered to a constable 
there ; but, before he had got six miles, he was over- 
taken by sixty men on horseback, who surrounded 
him, and told him, unless he returned with them and 
demanded back that warrant and committed it to the 
flames before their faces, he must take the conse- 

1 These were warrants issued by the clerks of the court by 
which the juries were summoned. 

2 The name of the town is not clear. The history of the events 
alluded to in this letter, may be found more at large in Gordon's 
" History of the American War," Vol. I. pp. 386, 387. 



LETTERS. 17 

quences of a refusal ; and he, not thinking it best to 
endure their vengeance, returned wiih them, made 
his demand of the warrant, and consumed it, upon 
which they dispersed and left him to his own reflec- 
tions. Since the news of the Quebec bill arrived, 
all the Church people here have hung their heads, 
and will not converse upon politics, though ever so 
much provoked by the opposite party. Before that, 
parties ran very high, and very hard words and 
threats of blows upon both sides were given out. 
They have had their town meeting here, which was 
full as usual, chose their committee for the county 
meeting, and did business without once regarding or 
fearing for the consequences. 

I should be glad to know how you found the peo- 
ple as you travelled from town to town. I hear you 
met with great hospitality and kindness in Connecti- 
cut. Pray let me know how your health is, and 
whether you have not had exceeding hot weather. 
The drought has been very severe. My poor cows 
will certainly prefer a petition to you, setting forth 
their grievances, and informing you that they have 
been deprived of their ancient privileges, whereby 
they are become great sufferers, and desiring that 
they may be restored to them. More especially, as 
their living, by reason of the drought, is all taken 
from them, and their property which they hold 
elsewhere is all decaying, they humbly pray that 
you would consider them, lest hunger should break 
through stone walls. 



18 LETTERS. 

The tenderest regard evermore awaits you from 
your most affectionate 

Abigail Adams. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 14- September, 1774. 

DEAREST FRIEND, 

Five weeks have passed and not one line have I re- 
ceived. I would rather give a dollar for a letter by 
the post, though the consequence should be, that I 
ate but one meal a day these three weeks to come. 
Every one I see is inquiring after you. — When did 
I hear ? — All my intelligence is collected from the 
newspaper, and I can only reply that I saw by that, 
you arrived such a day. I know your fondness for 
writing, and your inclination to let me hear from you 
by the first safe conveyance, which makes me sus- 
pect that some letter or other has miscarried, — but 
I hope, now you have arrived at Philadelphia, you 
will find means to convey me some intelligence. 
We are all well here. I think I enjoy better health 
than I have done these two years. I have not been 
to town since I parted with you there. The Gov- 
ernor is making all kinds of warlike preparations, 
such as mounting cannon upon Beacon Hill, digging 
intrenchments upon the Neck, placing cannon there, 
encamping a regiment there, throwing up breast- 
works, &c. The people are much alarmed, and the 
selectmen have waited upon him in consequence of 



LETTERS. 19 

it. The County Congress have also sent a commit- 
tee ; all which proceedings you will have a more 
particular account of, than I am able to give you, 
from the public papers. But, as to the movements 
of this town, perhaps you may not hear them from 
any other person. 

In consequence of the powder being taken from 
Charlestown, a general alarm spread through many 
towns and was caught pretty soon here. The report 
took here on Friday, and on Sunday a soldier was seen 
lurking about the Common, supposed to be a spy, 
but most likely a deserter. However, intelligence 
of it was communicated to the other parishes, and 
about eight o'clock, Sunday evening, there passed 
by here about two hundred men, preceded by a 
horsecart, and marched down to the powder house, 
from whence they took the powder, and carried it 
into the other parish and there secreted it. I opened 
the window upon their return. They passed with- 
out any noise, not a word among them till they came 
against this house, when some of them perceiving 
me, asked me if I wanted any powder. I replied, 
No, since it was in so good hands. — The reason 
they gave for taking it was, that we had so many 
Tories here, they dared not trust us with it ; they had 
taken Vinton in their train, and upon their return 
they stopped between Cleverly's and Etter's and 
called upon him to deliver two warrants.^ Upon his 

1 For summoning juries. 



20 LETTERS. 

producing them, they put it to vote whether they 
should burn them, and it passed in the affirmative. 
They then made a circle and burnt them. They 
then called a vote whether they should huzza, but, it 
being Sunday evening, it passed in the negative. 
They called upon Vinton to swear, that he would 
never be instrumental in carrying into execution any 
of these new acts. They were not satisfied with his 
answers ; however, they let him rest a iew days ; after- 
wards, upon his making some foolish speeches, they 
assembled to the amount of two or three hundred, and 
swore vengeance upon him unless he took a solemn 
oath. Accordingly, they chose a committee and sent 
it with him to Major Miller's to see that he complied ; 
and they waited his return, which proving satisfacto- 
ry, they dispersed. This town appears as high as 
you can well imagine, and, if necessary, would soon 
be in arms. Not a Tory but hides his head. The 
Church parson thought they were coming after him, 
and ran up garret ; they say another jumped out of 
his window and hid among the corn, whilst a third 
crept under his board fence and told his beads. 

16 September, 1774. 

I dined to-day at Colonel Quincy's. They were 
so kind as to send me and Abby and Betsey an invi- 
tation to spend the day with them ; and, as I had not 
been to see them since I removed to Braintree, I ac- 
cepted the invitation. After I got there came Mr. 
Samuel Quincy's wife and Mr. Sumner, Mr. Josiah 



LETTERS. * 21 

and wife.^ A little clashing of parties, you may be 
sure. Mr. Sam's wife said, she thought it high time 
for her husband to turn about ; he had not done half 
so cleverly since he left her advice ; said they both 
greatly admired the most excellent speech of the 
Bishop of St. Asaph, which I suppose you have seen. 
It meets, and most certainly merits, the greatest en- 
comiums. 

Upon my return at night, Mr. Thaxter met me 
at the door with your letter, dated at Princeton, 
New Jersey. It really gave me such a flow of spir- 
its, that I was not composed enough to sleep until 
one o'clock. You make no mention of one I wrote 
you previous to that you received by Mr. Breck, and 
sent by Mr. Cunningham. I am rejoiced to hear you 
are well. I want to know many more particulars 
than you write me, and hope soon to hear from you 
again. I dare not trust myself with the thought how 
long you may perhaps be absent. I only count the 
weeks already past and they amount to five. I am 
not so lonely as I should have been without my two 
neighbours ; we make a table-full at meal times. All 
the rest of their time they spend in the office. Nev- 
er were two persons who gave a family less trouble 
than they do. It is at last determined, that Mr. 
Rice keep the school here. Indeed, he has kept 
ever since he has been here, but not with any ex- 
pectation that he should be continued ; — but the peo- 

1 It is well known, that these two brothers took opposite sides 



22 LETTERS, 

pie, finding no small difference between him and his 
predecessor, chose he should be continued. I have 
not sent Johnny/ He goes very steadily to Mr. 
Thaxter, who I believe takes very good care of him ; 
and, as they seem to have a liking to each other, 
I believe it will be best to continue him with him. 
However, when you return, we can consult what 
will be best. I am certain that, if he does not get so 
much good, he gets less harm ; and I have always 
thought it of very great importance, that children 
should, in the early part of life, be unaccustomed to 
such examples as would tend to corrupt the purity of 
their words and actions, that they may chill with 
horror at the sound of an oath, and blush with indig- 
nation at an obscene expression. These first princi- 
ples, which grow with their growth, and strengthen 
with their strength, neither time nor custom can to- 
tally eradicate. You will perhaps be tired. No. — 
Let it serve by way of relaxation from the more im- 
portant concerns of the day, and be such an amuse- 
ment, as your little hermitage used to afford you 
here. You have before you, to express myself in- 
the words of the Bishop, the greatest national con- 
cerns that ever came before any people ; and, if the 
prayers and petitions ascend unto Heaven, which 
are daily offered for you, wisdom will flow down as 
a stream, and righteousness as the mighty waters, 
and your deliberations will make glad the cities of 
our God. 

1 Her son, John Quincy Adams. 



LETTERS. 23 

I was very sorry I did not know of Mr. Gary's 
going ; it would have been so good an opportunity to 
have sent this, as I lament the loss of. You have 
heard, no doubt, of the people's preventing the court 
from sitting in various counties ; and last week, in 
Taunton, Angier urged the court's opening, and call- 
ing out the actions, but could not effect it. I saw a 
letter from Miss Eunice, wherein she gives an ac- 
count of it, and says there were two thousand men 
assembled round the court-house, and, by a commit- 
tee of nine, presented a petition requesting that they 
would not sit, and with the utmost order waited two 
hours for their answer, when they dispersed. 

You will burn all these letters, lest they should 
fall from your pocket, and thus expose your most 
affectionate friend, 

Abigail Adams. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Boston Garrison, 22 September, 1774. 

I HAVE just returned from a visit to my brother with 
my father, who carried me there the day before yes- 
terday, and called here on my return, to see this 
much injured town. I view it with much the same 
sensations that I should the body of a departed 
friend ; — as having only put off its present glory, to 
rise finally to a more happy state. I will not despair, 
but will believe, that, our cause being good, we shall 
finally prevail. The maxim, " In time of peace pre- 



y 



24 LETTERS. 

pare for war," (if this may be called a time of peace,) 
resounds throughout the country. Next Tuesday they 
are warned at Braintree, all above fifteen and under 
sixty, to attend with their arms ; and to train once a 
fortnight from that time is a scheme which lies much 
at heart with many. 

Scott has arrived, and brings news that he expect- 
ed to find all peace and quietness here, as he left 
them at home. You will have more particulars than 
I am able to send you, from much better hands. 
There has been in town a conspiracy of the negroes. 
At present it is kept pretty private, and was discov- 
ered by one who endeavoured to dissuade them from 
it. He being threatened with his life, applied to Jus- 
tice Quincy for protection. They conducted in this 
way, got an Irishman to draw up a petition to the 
Governor, telling him they would fight for him pro- 
vided he would arm them, and engage to liberate 
them if he conquered. And it is said that he attend- 
ed so much to it, as to consult Percy upon it, and 
one Lieutenant Small has been very busy and ac- 
tive. There is but little said, and what steps they 
will take in consequence of it I know not. I wish 
most sincerely there was not a slave in the province ; 
it always appeared a most iniquitous scheme to me 
to fight ourselves for what we are daily robbing and 
plundering from those who have as good a right to 
freedom as we have. You know my mind upon 
this subject. 

I left all our little ones well, and shall return to 



LETTERS. 25 

them to-night. I hope to hear from you by the re- 
turn of the bearer of this, and by Revere. I long 
for the day of your return, yet look upon you as 
much safer where you are, but know it will not do 
for you ; — not one action has been brought to this 
court, — no business of any sort in your way, — all 
law ceases, and the gospel will soon follow ; for they 
are supporters of each other. Adieu, my father hur- 
ries me. 

Yours most sincerely. 

Abigail Adams. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 16 October, 1774. 

MT MUCH LOVED FRIEND, 

I DARE not express to you, at three hundred miles' 
distance, how ardently I long for your return. I 
have some very miserly wishes, and cannot consent 
to your spending one hour in town, till, at least, I 
have had you twelve. The idea plays about my heart, 
unnerves my hand, whilst I write, — awakens all 
the tender sentiments, that years have increased and 
matured, and which, when with me, were every day 
dispensing to you. The whole collected stock of ten 
weeks' absence knows not how to brook any longer 
restraint, but will break forth and flow through my 
pen. May the like sensations enter thy breast, and 
(spite of all the weighty cares of state) mingle them- 
selves with those I wish to communicate ; for, in 



26 



LETTERS. 



giving them utterance, I have felt more sincere 
pleasure, than I have known since the 10th of Au- 
gust/ Many have been the anxious hours I have 
spent since that day ; the threatening aspect of our 
public affairs, the complicated distress of this prov- 
ince, the arduous and perplexed business in which 
you are engaged, have all conspired to agitate my 
bosom with fears and apprehensions to which I have 
heretofore been a stranger ; and, far from thinking 
the scene closed, it looks as though the curtain was 
but just drawn, and only the first scene of the infernal 
plot disclosed ; and whether the end will be tragical, 
Heaven alone knows. You cannot be, I know, nor 
do I wish to see you, an inactive spectator; but, if the 
sword be drawn, I bid adieu to all domestic felicity, 
and look forward to that country, where there are 
neither wars nor rumors of war, in a firm belief, that, 
through the mercy of its King, we shall both rejoice 
there together. 

I greatly fear, that the arm of treachery and vio- 
lence is lifted over us, as a scourge and heavy pun- 
ishment from Heaven for our numerous offences, 
and for the misimprovement of our great advantages. 
If we expect to inherit the blessings of our fathers, 
we should return a little more to their primitive sim- 
plicity of manners, and not sink into inglorious ease. 
We have too many high-sounding words, and too 
few actions that correspond with them. I have spent 
one Sabbath in town since you left. I saw no differ- 

1 The day on which he left her. 



LETTERS. 27 

ence in respect to ornament, &c. ; but in the coun- 
try you must look for that virtue, of which you find 
but small ghmmerings in the metropolis. Indeed, 
they have not the advantages, nor the resolution, 
to encourage our own manufactories, which peo- 
ple in the country have. To the mercantile part, it 
is considered as throwing away their own bread ; 
but they mast retrench their expenses, and be con- 
tent with a small share of gain, for they will find but 
few who will wear their livery. As for me, I will 
seek wool and flax, and work willingly with my 
hands; and, indeed, there is occasion for all our in- 
dustry and economy. You mention the removal of 
our books, &c., from Boston ; I believe they are safe 
there, and it would incommode the gentlemen to re- 
move them, as they would not then have a place to 
repair to for study. I suppose they would not choose 
to be at the expense of boarding out. Mr. Williams, 
I believe, keeps pretty much with his mother. Mr. 
Hill's father had some thoughts of removing up to 
Braintree, provided he could be accommodated with 
a house, which he finds very difficult. 

Mr. Cranch's last determination was to tarry in 
town, unless any thing new takes place. His friends 
in town oppose his removal so much, that he is de- 
termined to stay. The opinion you have entertained 
of General Gage is, I believe, just. Indeed, he pro- 
fesses to act only upon the defensive. The people 
in the country begin to be very anxious for the 
Congress to rise ; they have no idea of the weighty 



28 LETTERS. 

business you have to transact, and their blood boils 
with indignation at the hostile preparations they are 
constant witnesses of. Mr. Quincy's so secret de- 
parture is matter of various speculation ; some say 
he is deputed by the Congress, others, that he is gone 
to Holland, and the Tories say he is gone to be 
hanged.^ 

I rejoice at the favorable account you give me of 
your health. May it be continued to you. My health 
is much better than it was last fall ; some folks say 
I grow very fat. I venture to write almost any thing 
in this letter, because I know the care of the bearer. 
He will be most sadly disappointed, if you should be 
broken up before he arrives ; as he is very desirous 
of being introduced by you to a numbet of gentle- 
men of respectable character. I almost envy him, 
that he should see you before I can. Mr. Thaxter 
and Mr. Rice present their regards to you. Uncle 
Quincy, too, sends his love to you. He is very good 
to call and see me, and so have many other of my 
friends been. Colonel Warren and lady were here on 
Monday, and send their love to you. The Colonel 
promised to write. Mrs. Warren will spend a day or 
two, on her return, with me. I told Betsey^ to write 
to you ; she says she would, if you were her husband. 

1 See the " Memoir of the Life of Josiah Quincy, Jr./' by his 
son, Josiah Quincy, p. 182. 

2 Mrs. Adams's sister} who was afterwards married to the Rev. 
John Shaw, and to whom several of the letters in this volume 
were addressed. 



LETTERS. 29 

Your mother sends her love to you ; and all your 
family, too numerous to name, desire to be remem- 
bered. You will receive letters from two, who are 
as earnest to write to papa, as if the welfare of a 
kingdom depended upon it. If you can give any 
guess, within a month, let me know when you think 
of returning. 

Your most affectionate 

Abigail Adams. 



Braintree, 4 May, 1775, 

I HAVE but little news to write you. Every thing of 
that kind you will learn by a more accurate hand 
than mine. Things remain in much the same situa- 
tion here, that they were when you went away. 
There has been no descent upon the seacoast. 
Guards are regularly kept ; and people seem more 
settled, and are returning to their husbandry. I feel 
somewhat lonely. Mr. Thaxter is gone home. Mr. 
Rice is going into the army, as captain of a com- 
pany. We have no school. I know not what to do 
with John. As government is assumed, I suppose 
courts of justice will be established, and, in that case, 
there may be business to do. l£ so, would it not be 
best for Mr. Thaxter to return ? They seem to be 

1 Mr. Adams was at home during the interval between the 
sessions of Congress, marked by the dates of this and the preced- 
ing letter. 



30 LETTERS. 

discouraged in the study of law, and think there 
never will be any business for them. I could have 
wished they had consulted you upon the subject, be- 
fore you went away. 

I suppose you will receive two or three volumes 
of that forlorn wretch Hutchinson's letters. Among 
many other things, I hear he wrote, in 1772, that 
Deacon Phillips and you had like to have been 
chosen into the Council, but, if you had, you should 
have shared the same fate with Bowers.^ May the 
fate of Mordecai be his. There is nobody admitted 
into town yet. I have made two or three attempts 
to get somebody in, but cannot succeed ; so have not 
been able to do the business you left in charge whh 
me. I want very much to hear from you, how you 
stood your journey, and in what state you find your- 
self now. I felt very anxious about you ; though I 
endeavoured to be very insensible and heroic, yet 
my heart felt like a heart of lead. The same night 
you left me, I heard of Mr. Quincy's death, which, 
at this time, was a most melancholy event ; especially, 
as he wrote in minutes, which he left behind, that 
he had matters of consequence intrusted with him, 
which, for want of a confidant, must die with him.^ 
I went to see his distressed widow last Saturday, at 
the ColonePs ; and, in the afternoon, from an alarm 
they had, she and her sister, with three others of the 
family, took refuge with me and tarried all night. 

1 That is, would have received his negative. 

2 See "Memoir of Josiah Quincy, Jr./' p. 345. 



LETTEKS. 31 

She desired me to present her regards to you, and 
let you know, she wished you every blessing, — 
should alwa3's esteem you, as a sincere friend of her 
deceased husband. Poor afflicted woman; my heart 
was wounded for her. I must quit the subject, and 
entreat you to write me by every opportunity. 

Yours, 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 7 May, 1775. 
I RECEIVED by the Deacon two letters from you, this 
day, from Hartford. I feel a recruit of spirits upon 
the reception of them, and the comfortable news 
which they contain. We had not heard any thing 
from North Carolina before, and could not help feel- 
ing anxious, lest we should find a defection there, 
arising more from their ancient feuds and animosi- 
ties, than from any settled ill-will in the present con- 
test ; but the confirmation of the choice of their del- 
egates by their Assembly, leaves not a doubt of their 
firmness; nor doth the eye say unto the hand, "I 
have no need of thee." The Lord will not cast off 
his people, neither will he forsake his inheritance. 
Great events are most certainly in the womb of fu- 
turity ; and, if the present chastisements which we 
experience have a proper influence upon our conduct, 
the event will certainly be in our favor. The distresses 
of the inhabitants of Boston are beyond the power of 



32 LETTERS. 

language to describe ; there are but very few who are 
permitted to come out in a day ; they delay giving 
passes, make them wait from hour to hour, and their 
counsels are not two hours together alike. One day, 
they shall come out with their effects ; the next day, 
merchandise is not effects. One day, their house- 
hold furniture is to come out ; the next, only wear- 
ing apparel ; the next, Pharaoh's heart is hardened, 
and he refuseth to hearken to them, and will not let 
the people go. May their deliverance be wrought 
out for them, as it was for the children of Israel. I 
do not mean by miracles, but by the interposition of 
Heaven in their favor. They have taken a list of 
all those who they suppose were concerned in watch- 
ing the tea, and every other person whom they call 
obnoxious, and they and their effects are to suffer 
destruction. Yours, 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 24 May, 1776. 

I SUPPOSE you have had a formidable account of the 
alarm we had last Sunday morning. When I rose, 
about six o'clock, I was told, that the drums had been 
some time beating, and that three alarm guns were 
fired ; that Weymouth bell had been ringing, and 
Mr. Weld's was then ringing. I immediately sent 
off* ari express to know the occasion, and found the 
whole town in confusion. Three sloops and one 



LETTERS. 33" 

cutter had come out and dropped anchor just below 
Great Hill. It was difficult to tell their designs : 
some supposed they were coming to Germantown, 
others, to Weymouth ; people, women, children, 
from the iron-works, came flocking down this way ; 
every woman and child driven off from below my 
father's; my father's family flying. The Doctor^ is 
in great distress, as you may well imagine, for my 
aunt had her bed thrown into a cart into which she 
got herself, and ordered the boy to drive her to 
Bridgewater, which he did. The report was to them, 
that three hundred had landed, and were upon their 
march up into town. The alarm flew like lightning, 
and men from all parts came flocking down, till two 
thousand were collected. But, it seems, their expe- 
dition was to Grape Island for Levett's hay. There 
it was impossible to reach them, for want of boats ; 
but the sight of so many persons, and the firing at 
them, prevented their getting more than three tons of 
hay, though they had carted much more down to the 
water. At last a lighter was mustered, and a sloop 
from Hingham, which had six port holes. Our men 
eagerly jumped on board, and put off for the island. 
As soon as they perceived it, they decamped. Our 
people landed upon the island, and in an instant set 
fire to the hay, which, with the barn, was soon con- 

1 Dr. Cotton Tufts, of Weymouth, well known for many years, 
as a leading man in the County of JNTorfolk, had married a daugh- 
ter of Colonel John Quincy's, and, therefore, a sister of Mrs. 
Adams's mother. 

3 



34 LETTERS. 

sumed ; — about eighty tons, it is said. We expect 
soon to be in continual alarms, till something deci- 
sive takes place. We wait, with longing expectation, 
in hopes to hear the best accounts from you, with 
regard to union and harmony, &c. We rejoice 
greatly on the arrival of Dr. Franklin, as he must 
certainly be able to inform you very particularly of 
the situation of affairs in England. I wish you 
would, if you can get time, be as particular as you 
may^ when you write. Every one hereabouts comes 
to me, to hear what accounts I have. I was so un- 
lucky, as not to get the letter you wrote at New 
York. Captain Beale forgot it, and left it behind. 
We have a flying report here, with regard to New 
York, but cannot give any credit to it, as yet, that 
they had been engaged with the ships, which Gage 
sent there, and had taken them, with great loss upon 
both sides. 

Yesterday we had an account of three ships com- 
ing into Boston. I believe it is true, as there was a 
salute from the other ships, though I have not been 
to learn from whence they come. I suppose you 
have had an account of the fire, which did much 
damage to the warehouses, and added greatly to the 
distresses of the inhabitants, whilst it continued. The 
bad conduct of General Gage ^ was the means of its 
doing so much damage. 



*&- 



1 He had taken the engines under guard, in consequence of a 
report, that the liberty party intended to fire the town. See '' The 
Remembrancer," for 1775, pp. 95. 98. 



LETTERS. 35 

Our house has been, upon this alarm, in the same 
scene of confusion, that it was upon the former. 
Soldiers coming in for a lodging, for breakfast, for 
supper, for drink, &c. Sometimes refugees from 
Boston, tired and fatigued, seek an asylum for a day, 
a night, a week. You can hardly imagine how we 
live ; yet 

" To the houseless child of want 
Our doors are open still ; 
And, though our portions are but scant, 
We give them with good will." 

My best wishes attend you, both for your health 
and happiness, and that you may be directed into the 
wisest and best measures for our safety, and the 
security of our posterity. I wish you were nearer to 
us ; we know not what a day will bring forth, nor 
what distress one hour may throw us into. Hitherto 
I have been able to maintain a calmness and pres- 
ence of mind, and hope I shall, let the exigency of 
the time be what it will. Adieu, breakfast calls. 
Your affectionate 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Weymouth, 15 June, 1775. 
I SAT down to write to you on Monday, but really 
could not compose myself sufficiently ; the anxiety I 
suffered from not hearing one syllable from you for 
more than five weeks, and the new distress arising 



36 LETTERS. 

from the arrival of recruits, agitated me more than 
I have been since the never-to-be-forgotten 14th of 
April/ I have been much revived by receiving two 
letters from you last night ; one by the servant of 
your friend, and the other by the gentleman you 
mention, though they both went to Cambridge, and 
I have not seen them, I hope to send this, as a re- 
turn to you. 

I feared much for your health, when you went 
away. I must entreat you to be as careful as you 
can consistently with the duty you owe your country. 
That consideration, alone, prevailed with me to con- 
sent to your departure, in a time so perilous and 
so hazardous to your family, and with a body so 
infirm as to require the tenderest care and nursing. 
I wish you may be supported and divinely assisted 
in this most important crisis, when the fate of em- 
pires depends upon your wisdom and conduct. I 
greatly rejoice to hear of your union and determin- 
ation to stand by us. 

We cannot but consider the great distance you are 
from us as a very great misfortune, when our criti- 
cal situation renders it necessary to hear from you 
every week, and will be more and more so, as dif- 
ficulties arise. We now expect our seacoasts rav- 
aged ; perhaps the very next letter I write will inform 
you, that I am driven away from our yet quiet cot- 
tage. Necessity will oblige Gage to take some des- 

1 The day upon which he left her. 



LETTERS. 37 

perate steps. We are told for truth, that he is now 
eight thousand strong. We live in continual expec- 
tation of alarms. Courage, I know we have in 
abundance, — conduct, I hope we shall not want ; 
but powder, — where shall we get a sufficient sup- 
ply? I wish we may not fail there. Every town is 
filled with the distressed inhabitants of Boston. Our 
house among others is deserted, and by this time, 
like enough, made use of as a barrack. Mr. Bow- 
doin and his lady are at present in the house of Mrs. 
Borland, and are going to Middleborough, to the 
house of Judge Oliver. He, poor gentleman, is so 
low, that I apprehend he is hastening to a house not 
made with hands ; he looks like a mere skeleton, 
speaks faint and low, is racked with a violent cough, 
and, I think, far advanced in a consumption. I went 
to see him last Saturday. He is very inquisitive of 
every person with regard to the times ; begged I 
would let him know of the first intelligence I had 
from you ; is very unable to converse by reason of 
his cough. He rides every pleasant day, and has 
been kind enough to call at the door (though unable 
to get out) several times. He says the very name 
of Hutchinson distresses him. Speaking of him, the 
other day, he broke out, — " Religious rascal ! how 
I abhor his name." 

Pray be as particular as possible when you write. 
Everybody wants to hear and to know what is do- 
ing, and what may be communicated do not fail to 
inform me of. All our friends desire to be kindly 



38 LETTERS. 

remembered to you. Gage's proclamation you will 
receive by this conveyance. All the records of time 
cannot produce a blacker page. Satan, when driven 
from the regions of bliss, exhibited not more malice. 
Surely the father of lies is superseded. Yet we 
think it the best proclamation he could have issued. 

I shall, whenever I can, receive and entertain, in 
the best manner I am capable, the gentlemen who 
have so generously proflered their services in our 
army. Government is wanted in the army and else- 
where. We see the want of it more from so large 
a body being together, than when each individual 
was employed in his own domestic circle. My best 
regards attend every man you esteem. You will 
make my compliments to Mr. Mifflin and lady. I do 
not now wonder at the regard the ladies express for 
a soldier. Every man who wears a cockade appears 
of double the importance he used to do, and I feel 
a respect for the lowest subaltern in the army. You 
tell me you know not when you shall see me. I 
never trust myself long with the terrors which some- 
times intrude themselves upon me. 

I hope we shall see each other again, and rejoice 
together in happier days ; the little ones are well, 
and send duty to papa. Don't fail of letting me 
hear from you by every opportunity. Every line is 
like a precious relic of the saints. 

I have a request to make of you ; something like 
the barrel of sand, I suppose you will think it, but 
really of much more importance to me. It is, that 



LETTERS. 39 

you would send out Mr. Bass/ and purchase me a 
bundle of pins, and put them in your trunk for me. 
The cry for pins is so great, that what I used to buy 
for seven shillings and sixpence, are now twenty 
shillings, and not to be had for that. A bundle con- 
tains six thousand, for which I used to give a dollar ; 
but if you can procure them for fifty shillings, or 
three pounds,^ pray let me have them. 
I am, with the tenderest regard, 

Your 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Sunday, 18 June, 1775. 

DEAREST FRIEND, 

The day, — perhaps, the decisive day, — is come, on 
which the fate of America depends. My bursting 
heart must find vent at my pen. I have just heard, 
that our dear friend, Dr. Warren, is no more, but 
fell gloriously fighting for his country ; saying, bet- 
ter to die honorably in the field, than ignominiously 
hang upon the gallows. Great is our loss. He has 
distinguished himself in every engagement, by his 
courage and fortitude, by animating the soldiers, and 
leading them on by his own example. A particular 

1 A man who accompanied Mr. Adams in the capacity of a ser- 
vant. 

~ This price must have been caused by the obstruction of trade, 
as there had been no emission of paper money of importance. 



40 LETTERS. 

account of these dreadful, but I hope glorious days 
will be transmitted you, no doubt, in the exactest 
manner. 

" The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to 
the strong ; but the God of Israel is he, that giveth 
strength and power unto his people. Trust in him 
at all times, ye people, pour out your hearts before 
him ; God is a refuge for us." Charlestown is laid 
in ashes. The battle began upon our intrenchments 
upon Bunker's Hill, Saturday morning about three 
o'clock, and has not ceased yet, and it is now three 
o'clock Sabbath afternoon. 

It is expected they will come out over the Neck 
to-night, and a dreadful battle must ensue. Almighty 
God, cover the heads of our countrymen, and be a 
shield to our dear friends ! How many have fallen, 
we know not. The constant roar of the cannon is 
so distressing, that we cannot eat, drink, or sleep. 
May we be supported and sustained in the dreadful 
conflict. I shall tarry here till it is thought unsafe 
by my friends, and then I have secured myself a 
retreat at your brother's, who has kindly offered me 
part of his house. I cannot compose myself to write 
any further at present. I will add more as I hear 
further. 

Tuesday Afternoon, 

I have been so much agitated, that I have not 
been able to write since Sabbath day. When I say, 
that ten thousand reports are passing, vague and un- 
certain as the wind, I believe I speak the truth. I 



LETTERS. 41 

am not able to give you any tiuthentic account of 
last Saturday, but you will not be destitute of intelli- 
gence. Colonel Palmer has just sent me word, that 
he has an opportunity of conveyance. Incorrect as 
this scrawl will be, it shall go. I ardently pray, that 
you may be supported through the arduous task you 
have before you. I wish I could contradict the re- 
port of the Doctor's death ; but it is a lamentable 
truth, and the tears of multitudes pay tribute to his 
memory ; those favorite lines of Collins continually 
sound in my ears ; 

'' How sleep the brave/' &c.i 

I must close, as the Deacon waits. I have not 
pretended to be particular with regard to what I 
have heard, because I know you will collect better 
intelligence. The spirits of the people are very 
good ; the loss of Charlestown affects them no more 
than a drop of the bucket. I am, most sincerely, 

Yours, 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

22 June, 1775. 
I RECEIVED yours of June 10th, for which I thank 
you. I want you to be more particular. Does every 
member feel for us > Can they realize what we 
suffer ? And can they believe, with what patience 

1 Collins's Ode is too well known to need insertion. 



42 LETTERS. 

and fortitude we endure the conflict ? Nor do we 
even tremble at the frowns of power. 

You inquire of me, who were at the engagement 
at Grape Island. I may say, with truth, all of Wey- 
mouth, Braintree, Hingham, who were able to bear 
arms, and hundreds from other towns within thirty and 
forty miles of Weymouth. Our good friend, the Doc- 
tor,^ is in a miserable state of health, and hardly able 
to go from his own house to my father's. Danger, you 
know, sometimes makes timid men bold. He stood 
that day very well, and generously attended, with 
drink, biscuit, flints, &c., five hundred men, without 
taking any pay. He has since been chosen one of 
the Committee of Correspondence for that town, and 
has done much service, by establishing a regular 
method of alarm from town to town. Both your 
brothers were there ; your younger brother, with his 
company, who gained honor by their good order that 
day. He was one of the first to venture on board a 
schooner, to land upon the island. As to Chelsea, 
I cannot be so particular, as I do know only in gen- 
eral, that Colonel Putnam commanded there, and 
had many gentlemen volunteers. We have two com- 
panies stationed in this town ; at Gerraantown, Cap- 
tain Turner ; at Squantum, Captain Vinton ; in Wey- 
mouth, one ; in Hingham, two, &c. I believe I shall 
remove your books this week to your brother's. We 
think it advisable. Colonel Quincy has procured his 
family a retreat at Deacon Holbrook's. Mr. Cranch 

1 Dr. Tufts. 



LETTERS. 43 

has one at Major Bass's, in case of necessity, to 
which we hope not to be driven. We hear, that 
the troops destined for New York are all expected 
here ; but we have got to that pass, that a whole 
legion of them would not intimidate us. I think I 
am very brave, upon the whole. If danger comes 
near my dwelling, I suppose I shall shudder. We 
want powder, but, with the blessing of Heaven, we 
fear them not. Write every opportunity you can. 
I am yours, 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 25 June, 1775. 

DEAREST FRIEND, 

My father has been more afflicted by the destruc- 
tion of Charlestown than by any thing which has 
heretofore taken place. Why should not his counte- 
nance be sad, when the city, the place of his fath- 
er's sepulchre, lieth waste, and the gates consumed 
with fire ? Scarcely one stone remaineth upon an- 
other ; but in the midst of sorrow we have abundant 
cause of thankfulness, that so few of our brethren 
are numbered with the slain, whilst our enemies 
were cut down like the grass before the scythe. 
But one officer of all the Welsh fusileers remains 
to tell his story. Many poor wretches die for want 
of proper assistance and care of their wounds. 
Every account agrees in fourteen or fifteen hun- 



44 LETTERS. 

dred slain and wounded upon their side, nor can I 
learn that they dissemble the number themselves. 
We had some heroes that day, who fought whh 
amazing intrepidity and courage. 

" Extremity is the trier of spirits ; 
— common chances common men can bear ; " 
And " when the sea is calm; all boats alike 
Show mastership in floating. But fortune's blows, 
When most struck home, being bravehj warded, crave 
A noble cunning." 

I hear that General Howe has said, that the battle 
upon the plains of Abram was but a bauble to this. 
When we consider all the circumstances attending 
this action, we stand astonished that our people were 
not all cut off. They had but one hundred feet in- 
trenched, the number who were engaged did not ex- 
ceed eight hundred, and they with not half ammu- 
nition enough ; the reinforcement not able to get to 
them seasonably. The tide was up, and high, so that 
their floating batteries came upon each side of the 
causeway, and their row-galleys kept a continual fire. 
Added to this, the fire from Cops Hill, and from the 
ships ; the town in flames, all around them, and the 
heat from the flames so intense as scarcely to be 
borne ; the day one of the hottest we have had this 
season, and the wind blowing the smoke in their fa- 
ces, — only figure to yourself all these circumstances, 
and then consider that we do not count sixty men 
lost.^ My heart overflows at the recollection. 

1 This was below the truth 3 but accuracy in these details will 



LETTERS. 45 

We live in continual expectation of hostilities. 
Scarcely a day that does not produce some ; but, like 
good Nehemiah, having made our prayer unto God, 
and set the people with their swords, their spears, 
and their bows, we will say unto them, " Be not ye 
afraid of them ; remember the Lord, who is great 
and terrible, and fight for your brethren, your sons 
and your daughters, your wives and your houses." 

I have just received yours of the 17th of June, in 
seven days only ; every line from that far country is 
precious ; you do not tell me how you do, but I will 
hope better. Alas, you little thought what distress 
we were in the day you wrote. ^ They delight in 
molesting us upon the Sabbath. Two Sabbaths we 
have been in such alarm that we have had no meet- 
ing ; this day we have sat under our own vine in 
quietness; have heard Mr. Taft, from Psalms, "The 
Lord is good to all, and his tender mercies are over 
all his works." The good man was earnest and pa- 
thetic ; I could forgive his weakness for the sake of 
his sincerity, but I long for a Cooper and an Eliot. 
I want a person, who has feeling and sensibility, who 
can take one up with him. 

And ''in his duty prompt, at every call/' 

Can " watch, and weep, and pray, and feel for all." 

not be looked for in a letter written at the moment, upon infor- 
mation necessarily defective. 

1 It is a little singular, that the letter written upon that day, 
gives her the first intelligence of the election of Washington to 
the chief command. 



46 



LETTERS. 



Mr. Rice joins General Heath's regiment to-mor- 
row, as adjutant. Your brother is very desirous of 
being in the army, but your good mother is really 
violent against it. I cannot persuade nor reason her 
into a consent. Neither he nor I dare let her know 
that he is trying for a place. My brother has a 
captain's commission, and is stationed at Cambridge. 
I thought you had the best of intelligence, or I 
should have taken pains to be more particular. As 
to Boston, there are many persons yet there, who 
would be glad to get out if they could. Mr. Boyls- 
ton, and Mr. Gill, the printer, with his family, are 
held upon the black list, it is said. 'T is certain 
they watch them so narrowly, that they cannot es- 
cape. Mr. Mather got out a day or two before 
Charlestown was destroyed, and had lodged his pa- 
pers and what else he got out, at Mr. Gary's, but 
they were all consumed ; so were many other peo- 
ple's, who thought they might trust their little there, 
till teams could be procured to remove them. The 
people from the almshouse and workhouse were sent 
to the lines, last week, to make room for their 
wounded, they say. Medford people are all re- 
moved. Every seaport seems in motion. O North, 
may the groans and cries of the injured and oppress- 
ed harrow up thy soul. We have a prodigious ar- 
my, but we lack many accommodations, which we 
need. I hope the appointment of these new gener- 
als will give satisfaction ; they must be proof against 
calumny. In a contest like this, continual reports 



LETTERS. 47 

are circulated by our enemies, and they catch with 
the unwary and the gaping crowd, who are ready 
to listen to the marvellous, without considering of 
consequences, even though their best friends are 
injured. 

I have not ventured to inquire one word of you 
about your return. I do not know whether I ought 
to wish for it ; it seems as if your sitting together 
was absolutely necessary, whilst every day is Lig 
with events. 

Mr. Bowdoin called Friday, and took his leave of 
me, desiring I would present his affectionate regards 
to you. I have hopes that he will recover, he has 
mended a good deal. He wished he could have 
stayed in Braintree, but his lady was fearful. 
Yours evermore, 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 5 July, 1775, 

I HAVE received a good deal of paper from you. I 
wish it had been inore covered ; the writing is very 
scant, yet I must not grumble. I know your time is 
not yours nor mine. Your labors must be great and 
your mouth closed ; but all you may communicate, I 
beg you would. There is a pleasure, I know not 
whence it arises, nor can I stop now to find it out, 
but I say there is a degree of pleasure in being able 



48 LETTERS. 

to tell news, especially any that so nearly concerns 
us, as all your proceedings do. 

I should have been more particular, but I thought 
you knew every thing that passed here. The pres- 
ent state of the inhabitants of Boston is that of the 
most abject slaves, under the most cruel and despotic 
of tyrants. Among many instances I could men- 
tion, let me relate one. Upon the 17th of June, 
printed handbills were posted up at the corners of 
the streets and upon houses, forbidding any inhabit- 
ants to go upon their houses, or upon any eminence, 
upon pain of death ; the inhabitants dared not to look 
out of their houses, nor to be heard or seen to ask 
a question. Our prisoners were brought over to the 
Long Wharf, and there lay all night, without any 
care of their wounds or any resting-place but the 
pavements, until the next day, when they exchanged 
it for the jail, since which we hear they are civilly 
treated. Their living cannot be good, as they can 
have no fresh provisions ; their beef, we hear, is all 
gone, and their own wounded men die very fast, so 
that they have a report that the bullets were poison- 
ed. Fish they cannot have, they have rendered it 
so difficult to procure it; and the admiral is such a 
villain as to oblige every fishing schooner to pay a 
dollar every time it goes out. The money that has 
been paid for passes is incredible. Some have given 
ten, twenty, thirty, and forty dollars, to get out with 
a small proportion of their things. It is reported 
and believed, that they have taken up a number of 



LETTERS. 49 

persons and committed them to jail, we know not for 
what in particular. Master Lovell is confined in the 
dungeon ; a son of Mr. Edes is in jail, and one Wi- 
burt, a ship carpenter, is now upon trial for his life. 
God alone knows to what length these wretches will 
go, and will I hope restrain their malice. 

I would not have you be distressed about me. 
Danger, they say, makes people valiant. Hitherto 
I have been distressed, but not dismayed. I have 
felt for my country and her sons, and have bled 
with them and for them. Not all the havoc and 
devastation they have made, has wounded me like 
the death of Warren. We want him in the Senate ; 
we want him in his profession ; we want him in the 
field. We mourn for the citizen, the senator, the 
physician, and the warrior. May we have others 
raised up in his room. 

I have had a very kind and friendly visit from our 
dear friends Colonel Warren, lady, and son. Mrs. 
Warren spent almost a week with me, and he came 
and met her here, and kept Sabbath with me. I 
suppose she will write to you, though she says you 
are in her debt. 

You scarcely make mention of Dr. Franklin. 
Surely he must be a valuable member. Pray, what 
is become of your Judas ? ^ I see he is not with 

1 It is uncertain who is alluded to here ; probably Mr. Gallo- 
way of Pennsylvania, who was a member of the first Congress, re- 
sisted the measures adopted by it, and subsequently became one 
of the most active of the loyal refugees. 
4 



50 LETTERS. 

you upon the list of delegates. I wish I could come 
and see you. I never suffer myself to think you are 
about returning soon. Can it, will it be ? May I 
ask — may I wish for it ? When once I expect you, 
the time will crawl till I see you. But hush ! Do 
you know it is eleven o'clock at night ? We have 
had some very fine rains since I wrote you last. I 
hope we shall not now have famine added to war. 
Grain, grain is what we want here. Meat we have 
enough, and to spare. Pray don't let Bass forget my 
pins. Hardwick has applied to me for Mr. Bass to 
get him a hundred of needles, number six, to carry 
on his stocking weaving. We shall very soon have 
no coffee, nor sugar, nor pepper here ; but whortle- 
berries and milk we are not obliged to commerce 
for. Good night. With thoughts of thee do I close 
my eyes. Angels guard and protect thee ; and may 
a safe return ere long bless thy 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 16 July, 1775. 



DEAREST FRIEND, 



I HAVE seen your letters to Colonels Palmer and 
Warren. I pity your embarrassments. How diffi- 
cult the task to quench the fire and the pride of pri- 
vate ambition, and to sacrifice ourselves and all our 
hopes and expectations to the public weal ! How 
few have souls capable of so noble an undertaking ! 



LETTERS. 51 

How often are the laurels worn by those who have 
had no share in earning them ! But there is a future 
recompense of reward, to which the upright man 
looks, and which he will most assuredly obtain, pro- 
vided he perseveres unto the end. 

The appointment of the generals Washington and 
Lee gives universal satisfaction. The people have 
the highest opinion of Lee's abilities, but you know 
the continuation of the popular breath depends much 
upon favorable events. I had the pleasure of see- 
ing both the generals and their aids-de-camp soon 
after their arrival, and of being personally made 
known to them. They very politely express their 
regard for you. Major Mifflin said he had orders 
from you to visit me at Braintree. I told him I 
should be very happy to see him there, and accord- 
ingly sent Mr. Thaxter to Cambridge with a card, to 
him and Mr. Read, to dine with me. Mrs. Warren 
and her son were to be with me. They very po- 
litely received the message, and lamented that they 
were not able to come, upon account of expresses 
which they were on that day to get in readiness to 
send off. 

I was struck with General Washington. You had 
prepared me to entertain a favorable opinion of him, 
but I thought the half was not told me. Dignity 
with ease and complacency, the gentleman and sol- 
dier, look agreeably blended in him. Modesty marks 
every line and feature of his face. Those lines of 
Dryden instantly occurred to me ; 



52 LETTERS. 

" Mark his majestic fabric ! he 's a temple 
Sacred by birlh, and built by hands divine 5 
His soul 's the deity that lodges there ; 
Nor is the pile unworthy of the god." 

General Lee looks like a careless, hardy veteran, 
and, by his appearance, brought to my mind his 
namesake, Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden. The 
elegance of his pen far exceeds that of his person. 

You have made frequent complaints that your 
friends do not write to you. I have stirred up some 
of them. May not I in my turn make complaints ? 
All the letters I receive from you seem to be written 
in so much haste, that they scarcely leave room for 
a social feeling. They let me know that you exist, 
but some of them contain scarcely six lines. I want 
some sentimental effusions of the heart. I am sure 
you are not destitute of them ; or are they all ab- 
sorbed in the great public ? Much is due to that, I 
know ; but, being part of the public, I lay claim to a 
larger share than I have had. You used to be more 
communicative on Sundays. I always loved a Sab- 
bath day's letter, for then you had a greater com- 
mand of your time ; but hush to all complaints. 

I am much surprised that you have not been more 
accurately informed of what passes in the camps. 
As to intelligence from Boston, it is but very seldom 
we are able to collect any thing that may be relied 
on ; and to report the vague, flying rumors, would be 
endless. I heard yesterday, by one Mr. Roulstone, 
a goldsmith, who got out in a fishing schooner, that 
their distress increased upon them fast. Their beef 



LETTERS. 53 

is all spent ; their malt and cider all gone. All the 
fresh provisions they can procure, they are obliged 
to give to the sick and wounded. Thirteen of our 
men who were in jail, and were wounded at the bat- 
tle of Charlestown, were dead. No man dared now 
to be seen talking to his friend in the street. They 
were obliged to be within, every evening, at ten 
o'clock, according to martial law ; nor could any 
inhabitant walk any street in town after that time, 
without a pass from Gage. He has ordered all the 
molasses to be distilled up into rum for the soldiers ; 
taken away all licenses, and given out others, ob- 
liging to a forfeiture of ten pounds, if any rum is sold 
without written orders from the general. He gives 
much the same account of the killed and wounded 
we have from others. The spirit, he says, which 
prevails among the soldiers, is a spirit of malice and 
revenge ; there is no true courage and bravery to be 
observed among them. Their duty is hard, always 
mounting guard with their packs at their backs, 
ready for an alarm, which they live in continual haz- 
ard of Dr. Eliot is not on board a man-of-war, as 
has been reported, but perhaps was left in town, as 
the comfort and support of those who cannot escape. 
He was constantly with our prisoners. Messrs. Lov- 
ell and Leach, with others, are certainly in jail. A 
poor milch cow was last week killed in town, and 
sold for a shilling sterling per pound. The trans- 
ports arrived last week from York, but every addi- 
tional man adds to their distress. There has been a 



54 LETTERS. 

little expedition this week to Long Island.^ There 
have been, before, several attempts to go on, but 
three men-of-war lay near, and cutters all round the 
island, so that they could not succeed. A number 
of whaleboats lay at Germantown. Three hundred 
volunteers, commanded by one Captain Tupper, 
came on Monday evening and took the boats, went 
on, and brought off seventy odd sheep, fifteen head 
of cattle, and sixteen prisoners, thirteen of whom 
were sent by (Simple Sapling) ^ to mow the hay, 
which they had very badly executed. They were 
all asleep in the house and barn. When they were 
taken, there were three women with them. Our 
heroes came off in triumph, not being observed by 
their enemies. This spirited up others, who could 
not endure the thought that the house and barn 
should afford them any shelter ; — they did not de- 
stroy them the night before for fear of being dis- 
covered. Captain Wild, of this town, with about 
twenty-five of his company ; Captain Gold, of Wey- 
mouth, with as many of his, and some other volun- 
teers, to the amount of a hundred, obtained leave to 
go on and destroy the hay, together with the house 
and barn ; and in open day, in full view of the men- 
of-war, they set off from the Moon^ so called, cov- 

1 In Boston harbour. This event is repeatedly noticed in ''The 
Remembrancer/' for 1755, pp. 242, 257, 262. 

2 These are the words in the original, but I cannot explain 
them. — Editor. 

3 The name given to a small island in Boston harbour. 



LETTERS. 58 

ered by a number of men who were placed there, 
— went on and set fire to the buildings and hay. 
A number of armed cutters immediately surrounded 
the island and fired upon our men. They came off 
with a hot and continued fire upon them, the bullets 
flying in every direction, and the men-of-war's boats 
plying them with small arms. Many in this town, 
who were spectators, expected every moment our 
men would all be sacrificed, for sometimes they 
were so near as to be called and damned by their 
enemies, and ordered to surrender ; yet they all re- 
turned in safety, not one man even wounded. Upon 
the Moon we lost one man, from the cannon on 
board the man-of-war. On the evening of the same 
day, a man-of-war came and anchored near Great 
Hill, and two cutters came to Pig Rocks. It occa- 
sioned an alarm in this town, and we were up all 
night. They remain there yet, but have not ventur- 
ed to land any men. 

This town have chosen their representative. Col- 
onel Palmer is the man. There was a considerable 
muster upon Thayer's side, and Vinton's company 
marched up in order to assist, but got sadly disap- 
pointed. Newcomb insisted upon it that no man 
should vote who was in the army. He had no no- 
tion of being under the military power ; said we 
might be so situated as to have the greater part of 
the people engaged in the military, and then all 
power would be wrested out of the hands of the civil 
magistrate. He insisted upon its being put to vote, 



56 LETTERS. 

and carried his point immediately. It brought Thay- 
er to his speech, who said all he could against it. 

As to the situation of the camps, our men are in 
general healthy, much more so at Roxbury than at 
Cambridge, and the camp is in vastly better order. 
General Thomas has the character of an excellent 
officer. His merit has certainly been overlooked, as 
modest merit generally is. I hear General Wash- 
ington is much pleased with his conduct. 

Every article here in the West India way is very 
scarce and dear. In six weeks we shall not be able 
to purchase any article of the kind. I wish you would 
let Bass get me one pound of j)epper, and two yards 
of black calamanco for shoes. I cannot wear leath- 
er, if I go barefoot. Bass may make a fine profit 
if he lays in a stock for himself. You can hardly 
imagine how much we want many common small 
articles, which are not manufactured amongst our- 
selves ; but we will have them in time ; not one pin 
to be purchased for love or money. I wish you 
could convey me a thousand by any friend travelling 
this way. It is very provoking to have such a plenty 
so near us, but, Tantalus-like, not be able to touch. 
I should have been glad to have laid in a small stock 
of the West India articles, but I cannot get one cop- 
per ; no person thinks of paying any thing, and I do 
not choose to run in debt. 

We have not yet been much distressed for grain. 
Every thing at present looks blooming. O that 
peace would once more extend her olive branch ; 



LETTERS. 57 

" This day be bread and peace my lot ; 

All else beneath the sun, 
Thou knovvest if best bestowed or not. 
And let thy will be done." 

" But is the Almighty ever bound to please, 
Build by my wish, or studious of my ease ? 
Shall I determine where his frowns shall fall, 
And fence my grotto from the lot of all ? 
Prostrate, his sovereign wisdom I adore, 
Intreat his mercy, but I dare no more." 

I have now written you all I can collect from ev- 
eiy quarter. 'T is fit for no eyes but yours, because 
you can make all necessary allowances. I cannot 
copy. 

There are yet in town three of the selectmen and 
some thousands of inhabitants, 't is said. I hope to 
hear from you soon. Do let me know if there is 
any prospect of seeing you ? Next Wednesday is 
thirteen weeks since you went away. I must bid 
you adieu. 

You have many friends, though they have not no- 
ticed you by writing. I am sorry they have been so 
negligent. I hope no share of that blame lies upon 
Your most affectionate 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 25 July, 1775. 

DEAREST FRIEND, 

I RECEIVED yours of July 7th, for which I heartily 
thank you. It was the longest and best letter I have 



58 LETTERS. 

had ; the most leisurely, and therefore the most sen- 
timental. Previous to your last, I had written you 
and made some complaints of you, but I will take 
them all back again. Only continue your obliging 
favors, whenever your time will allow you to devote 
one moment to your absent Portia. 

This is the 25th of July. Gage has not made any 
attempts to march out since the battle at Charles- 
town. Our army is restless, and wish to be doing 
something to rid themselves and the land of the ver- 
min and locusts which infest it. Since I wrote you 
last, the companies stationed upon the coast, both in 
this town, Weymouth, and Hingham, were ordered 
to Nantasket, to reap and bring off the grain, which 
they accomplished, all except a field or two which 
was not ripe ; and, having whaleboats, they under- 
took to go to the Lighthouse and set fire to it, which 
they effected in open day, and in fair sight of sever- 
al men-of-war. Upon their return, came down upon 
them eight barges, one cutter, and one schooner, all 
in battle array, and poured whole broad sides upon 
them ; but our men all reached the shore, and not 
one life lost, two only slightly wounded in their legs. 
They marched up a hill, and drew into order, in 
hopes the marines would land ; but they chose rather 
to return without a land engagement, though 't is 
thought they will burn the town down as soon as our 
forces leave it. I had this account from Captain 
Vinton, who with his company were there. These 
little skirmishes seem trifling, but they serve to inure 



LETTERS. 59 

our men, and harden them to danger. I hear the 
rebels are very wroth at the destruction of the Ught- 
house. 

There has been an offer from Gage to send the 
poor of Boston to Salem by water, but not compUed 
with on our part ; they returned for answer, they 
would receive them upon the Hnes. Dr. Tufts saw 
a letter from Deacon Newall, in which he mentions 
the death of John Cotton ; he says it is very sickly in 
town. Every fishing vessel is now obliged to enter 
and clear out, as though she was going a foreign 
voyage. No inhabitant is suffered to partake, but 
obliged to wait till the army is supplied, and then, if 
one remains, they are allowed, to purchase it. An 
order has been given out in town, that no person 
shall be seen to wipe his face with a white hand- 
kerchief. The reason I hear is, that it is a signal of 
mutiny. General Burgoyne lives in Mr. Sam Quin- 
cy's house. A lady, who lived opposite, says she 
saw raw meat cut and hacked upon her mahogany 
tables, and her superb damask curtain and cushions 
exposed to the rain as if they were of no value. 
How much better do the Tories fare than the Whigs ? 
I suppose this worthy, good man was put in with all 
confidence that nothing should be hurt. 

I was very much pleased with General Lee's let- 
ter,^ and really entertained a more favorable opinion 
of Burgoyne than I before had imbibed from his 

1 This correspondence between Lee and Burgoyne, is in " The 
Remembrancer," for 1775, pp. 150 et seq. 



60 LETTERS. 

speech ; but a late letter from London, written to Mr. 
Josiah Quincy, and, in case of his absence, to be 
opened either by you or Mr. Samuel Adams, or ei- 
ther of the Warrens, has left me no room to think 
that he is possessed either of generosity, virtue, or 
humanity. His character runs thus ; 

"As to Burgoyne,^ I am not master of language 
sufficient to give you a true idea of the horrible 
wickedness of the man. His designs are dark ; his 
dissimulation of the deepest dye ; for, not content 
with deceiving mankind, he practises deceit on God 
himself, by assuming the appearance (like Hutchin- 
son) of great attention to religious worship, when 
every action of his life is totally abhorrent to all 
ideas of true religion, virtue, or common honesty. 
An abandoned, infamous gambler, of broken fortune, 
and the worst and most detestable of the Bedford 
gang, who are wholly bent on blood, tyranny, and 
spoil, and therefore the darling favorite of our unri. 
vailed ruler. Lord Bute." 

The character of Howe is not drawn much more 
favorably, but Clinton's general character veiy good, 
and 't is said he does not relish the service he is sent 
upon. I am ready to believe this of Clinton, as I 
have never heard of any speeches of his since his 
arrival, nor scarcely any mention of him. That 

1 Much allowance must occasionally be made for the excite- 
ment naturally growing out of the circumstances of the war. 
General Burgoyne by no means bore any such character as this. 



LETTERS. 61 

such characters as Burgoyne and Howe should en- 
gage in such a cause is not to be wondered at ; but it 
is really to be lamented, when a man, possessed of 
one spark of virtue, should be drawn aside, and dis- 
grace himself and posterity by adding one more to 
the already infamous list. I suppose you have heard 
of Darby's arrival,^ and the intelligence he brings. I 
could not refrain wishing them everlasting fetters ; 
" the news received with some symptoms of pleas- 
ure," and " our friends increased," and a few more 
such sugar plums. Were they suffering as we are, 
could Americans sit thus coldly whilst Britons were 
bleeding ? How is it possible, that the love of gain 
and the lust of domination should render the human 
mind so callous to every principle of honor, generos- 
ity, and benevolence ? 

May that day be far distant from America, when 
" trade's unfeeling train," shall " usurp this land, 
and dispossess the swain." 

" 111 fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, 
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay ; 
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; 
A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; 
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride. 
When once destroyed, can never be supplied." 

Your address meets with general approbation here ; 

your petitioning the King again, pleases (forgive me 

if I say the timid and the weak) those persons who 

were esteemed the lukewarm, and who think no 

1 From England. 



62 LETTERS. 

works of supererogation can be performed to Great 
Britain ; whilst others say you heap coals of fire 
upon the heads of your enemies. You know you 
are considered here as a most perfect body ; if one 
member is by any means rendered incapable of act- 
ing, 't is supposed the deficiency will be made up. 
The query is, why your President left the Congress 
so long as to make it necessary to choose anoth- 
er member, — whether he declined returning to you 
again ? 

I suppose you have a list of our Council. It was 
generally thought that Gage would make an attempt 
to come out either Election day, or upon the Fast ; 
but I could not believe we should be disturbed upon 
that day. Even " the devils believe and tremble," and 
I really believe they are more afraid of the Ameri- 
cans' prayers than of their swords. I could not bear 
to hear our inanimate old bachelor. Mrs. Cranch 
and I took our chaise and went to hear Mr. Haven, 
of Dedham, and we had no occasion to repent eleven 
miles' ride ; especially as I had the pleasure of spend- 
ing the day with my namesake and sister delegate. 
Why should we not assume your titles when we give 
you up our names .? I found her comfortably situ- 
ated in a little country cottage, with patience, perse- 
verance, and fortitude for her companions, and in 
better health than she has enjoyed for many months 
past. 

I fear General Thomas being overlooked, and 
Heath placed over him, will create much uneasiness. 



LETTERS. 63 

I know not who was to blame, but it is likely to. 
make a great and fatal gap in the army. If Thom- 
as resigns, all his officers resign ; and Mr. Thomas 
cannot with honor hold under Heath. The camp 
will evince to every eye how good an officer he has 
been ; but this is out of my sphere. I only say what 
others say, and what the general disposition of the 
people is. 

I need not say how much I want to see you, but 
no one will credit my story of your returning in a 
month. I hope to have the best of proofs to con- 
vince them. 

It cannot need any to convince you how sincerely 
I am your affectionate 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 31 July, 1775. 
I DO not feel easy more than two days together 
without writing to you. If you abound, you must 
lay some of the fault upon yourself, who have made 
such sad complaints for letters ; but I really believe 
I have written more than all my sister delegates. 
There is nothing new transpired since I wrote you 
last, but the sailing of some transports, and five de- 
serters having come intp our camp. One of them 
is gone, I hear, to Philadelphia. I think I should be 
cautious of him. No one can tell the secret designs 
of such fellows, whom no oath binds. He may be 



64 



LETTERS. 



sent with assassinating designs. I can credit any 
villany, that a Csesar Borgia would have been guilty 
of, or Satan himself would rejoice in. Those who 
do not scruple to bring poverty, misery, slavery, and 
death upon thousands, will not hesitate at the most 
diabolical crimes ; and this is Britain. Blush, O 
Americans, that ever you derived your origin from 
such a race. 

We learn from one of these deserters, that our 
ever valued friend, Warren, dear to us even in death, 
was not treated with any more respect than a com- 
mon soldier ; but the savage wretches, called officers, 
consulted together, and agreed to sever his head 
from his body and carry it in triumph to Gage, who 
no doubt would have " grinned horribly a ghastly 
smile," instead of imitating Csesar, who far from be- 
ing gratified with so horrid a spectacle as the head 
even of his enemy, turned away from Pompey's 
with disgust, and gave vent to his pity in a flood of 
tears. Plow much does Pagan tenderness put Chris- 
tian benevolence to shame ! What humanity could 
not obtain, the rites and ceremonies of a mason de- 
manded. An officer, who, it seems, was one of the 
brotherhood, requested, that as a mason, he might 
have the body unmangled, and find a decent inter- 
ment for it. He obtained his request, but, upon re- 
turning to secure it, he found it already thrown into 
the earth, only with the ceremony of being first 
placed there with many bodies over him ; 

" Nor writ his name, whose tomb should pierce the skies." 



LETTERS. 65 

" Glows my resentment into guilt? What guilt 
Can equal violations of the dead ? 
The dead how sacred ! Sacred is the dust 
Of this heaven-labored form, erect, divine ! 
This heaven-assumed, majestic robe of earth." 

2 August. 

Thus far I wrote and broke off; hearing there was 
a probabiUty of your return, I thought not to send it ; 
but the reception of yours this morning, of July 23d, 
makes me think the day further off than I hoped. I 
therefore will add a few lines, though very unfit. I 
went out yesterday to attend the funeral of the poor 
fellow who, the night before, fell in battle, as they 
were returning from the lighthouse ; I caught some 
cold. Sabbath evening there was a warm fire from 
Prospect Hill and Bunker's Hill, begun first by the 
riflemen taking off their guard. Two men upon our 
side were killed, five of their guards were killed, 
two taken. I believe my account will -be very con- 
fused, but I will relate it as well as I am able.^ Sab- 
bath evening a number of men, in whaleboats, went 
off from Squantum and Dorchester, to the lighthouse, 
where the general, Gage, had again fixed up a lamp, 
and sent twelve carpenters to repair it. Our people 
went on amidst a hot fire from thirty marines, who 
were placed there as a guard to the Tory carpenters, 
burnt the dwellinghouse, took the Tories and twenty- 
eight marines, killed the lieutenant and one man, 

1 These events are briefly mentioned in ''The Remembrancer," 
for the year 1775, pp. 269, 270. 
5 



66 LETTERS. 

brought off all the oil and stores which were sent, 
without the loss of a man, until they were upon their 
return ; when they were so closely pursued, that they 
were obliged to run one whaleboat ashore, and leave 
her to them ; the rest arrived safe, except the unhap- 
py youth, whose funeral I yesterday attended, who 
received a ball through the temple, as he was rowing 
the boat. He belonged to Rhode Island. His name 
was Griffin. He, with four wounded marines, was 
brought by Captain Turner to Germantown, and 
buried from there with the honors of war. Mr. Wi- 
bird, upon the occasion, made the best oration (he 
never prays, you know,) I ever heard from him. The 
poor wounded fellows (who were all wounded in 
their arms) desired they might attend. They did, 
and he very pathetically addressed them, with which 
they appeared affected. I spoke with them, — I told 
them, it was very unhappy that they should be obliged 
to tight their best friends. They said they were' sorry ; 
they hoped in God an end would be speedily put to 
the unhappy contest ; when they came, they came in 
the way of their duty, to relieve Admiral Montague, 
with no thought of fighting, but their situation was 
such as obliged them to obey orders ; but they wish- 
ed with all their souls, that they that sent them here 
had been in the heat of the battle ; expressed grati- 
tude at the kindness they received ; and said in that 
they had been deceived, for they were told, if they 
were taken alive, they would be sacrificed by us. 
Dr. Tufts dressed their wounds. 



LETTEKS. 67 

I had a design to write something about a talked 
of appointment of a friend of mine to a judicial 
department,^ but hope soon to see that friend, be- 
fore his acceptance may be necessary. I inclose 
a compliment, copied by a gentleman from a piece 
in the Worcester paper, signed " Lycurgus." 

I can add no more, as the good Colonel Palmer 
waits. Only my compliments to Mrs. Mifflin, and 
tell her I do not know whether her husband is safe 
here. Bellona and Cupid have a contest about him. 
You hear nothing from the ladies but about Major 
Mifflin's easy address, politeness, complaisance, &c. 
'T is well he has so agreeable a lady at Philadel- 
phia. They know nothing about forts, intrench- 
ments, &c., when they return ; or, if they do, they 
are all forgotten and swallowed up in his accom- 
plishments. 

Adieu, my dearest friend, and always believe me 
Unalterably yours, 

Portia. 



Weymouth, 1 October, 1775. 
Have pity upon me. Have pity upon me, O thou 
my beloved, for the hand of God presseth me sore. 

1 Mr. Adams was made Chief Justice of the State Court, but 
never acted in that capacity. 

2 Mr, Adams was at home during the adjournment of Congress > 
from the 1st of Auyutt. to the 5th of September. 



68 



LETTERS. 



Yet will I be dumb and silent, and not open my 
mouth, because thou, O Lord, hast done it. 

How can I tell you, (O my bursting heart !) that 
my dear mother has left me ? — this day, about five 
o'clock she left this world for an infinitely better. 

After sustaining sixteen days' severe conflict, na- 
ture fainted, and she fell asleep. Blessed spirit ! 
where art thou ? At times, I am almost ready to 
faint under this severe and heavy stroke, separated 
from thee^ who used to be a comforter to me in 
afl[liction ; but, blessed be God, his ear is not heavy 
that he cannot hear, but he has bid us call upon 
him in time of trouble. 

I know you are a sincere and hearty mourner 
witli me, and will pray for me in my affliction. My 
poor father, like a firm believer and a good Chris- 
tian, sets before his children the best of examples of 
patience and submission. My sisters send their love 
to you, and are greatly afflicted. You often express- 
ed your anxiety for me when you left me before, 
surrounded with terrors ; but my trouble then was 
as the small dust in the balance, compared to what I 
have since endured. I hope to be properly mindful 
of the correcting hand, that I may not be rebuked in 
anger. 

You will pardon and forgive all my wanderings of 



mi 



nd, I cannot be correct. 



'T is a dreadful time with the whole province. 
Sickness and death are in almost every family, I 



LETTERS. 69 

have no more shocking and terrible idea of any dis- 
temper, except the plague, than this.^ 

Almighty God ! restrain the pestilence which walk- 
eth in darkness and wasteth at noonday, and which 
has laid in the dust one of the dearest of parents. 
May the life of the other be lengthened out to his 
afflicted children. 

From your distressed 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 21 October, 1775. 
The sickness has abated here and in the neighbouring 
towns. In Boston I am told it is very sickly among 
the inhabitants and the soldiery. By a man, one 
Haskins, who came out the day before yesterday, I 
learn, that there are but about twenty-five hundred sol- 
diers in town. How many there are at Charlestown, 
he could not tell. He had been in irons three weeks, 
some malicious fellow having said that he saw him 
at the battle of Lexington ; but he proved that he was 
not out of Boston that day, upon which he was re- 
leased, and went with two other men out in a small 
boat, under their eye, to fish. They played about 

1 The dysentery prevailed among the British troops, who were 
great sufferers from their confinement in Boston, and it appears 
to have spread among the inhabitants in the vicinity. Mrs. Adams 
lost, besides her mother and a brother of her husband, a domes- 
tic in her own house ; but she and the rest of her family, who 
were all, with a single exception, more or less ill, recovered. 



70 LETTERS. 

near the shore, while catching small fish, till they 
thought they could possibly reach Dorchester Neck 
no sooner were they perceived attempting to escape 
than they had twenty cannons discharged at them 
but they all happily reached the shore. He says 
no language can paint the distress of the inhabit 
ants ; most of them destitute of wood and of provis 
ions of every kind. The bakers say, unless they 
have a new supply of wood, they cannot bake above 
one fortnight longer ; their biscuit are not above one 
half the former size ; the soldiers are obliged to do 
very hard duty, and are uneasy to a great degree, 
many of them declaring they will not continue much 
longer in such a state, but at all hazards will escape. 
The inhabitants are desperate, and contriving means 
of escape. A floating battery of ours, went out two 
nights ago, and rowed near the town, and then dis- 
charged their guns. Some of the balls went into the 
workhouse, some through the tents in the Common, 
and one through the sign of the Lamb Tavern. He 
says, it drove them all out of the Common, men, 
women, and children screaming, and threw them 
into the utmost distress ; but, very unhappily for us, 
in the discharge of one of the cannon, the ball not 
being properly rammed down, it split and killed two 
men, and wounded seven more, upon which they 
were obliged to return. He also says, that the Tories 
are much distressed about the fate of Dr. Church, 
and very anxious to obtain him, and would exchange 
Lovell for him. This man is so exasperated at the 



LETTERS. .71 

ill usage he has received from them, that he is deter- 
mined to enUst immediately. They almost starved 
him whilst he was in irons. He says, he hopes it 
will be in his power to send some of them to heaven 
for mercy. They are building a fort by the hay- 
market, and rending down houses for timber to do it 
with. In the course of the last week, several per- 
sons have found means to escape. One of them 
says it is talked in town, that Howe will issue a proc- 
lamation, giving liberty to all, who will not take up 
arms, to depart the town, and making it death to 
have any intercourse with the country afterwards. 

At present it looks as if there was no likelihood 
of peace ; the ministry are determined to proceed at 
all events ; the people are already slaves, and have 
neither virtue nor spirit to help themselves nor us. 
The time is hastening, when George, like Richard, 
may cry, "My kingdom for a horse!" and want 
even that wealth to make the purchase. I hope by 
degrees, we shall be inured to hardships, and be- 
come a virtuous, valiant people, forgetting our form- 
er luxury, and each one apply with industry and 
frugality to manufactures and husbandry, till we ri- 
val all other nations by our virtues. 

I thank you for your amusing account of the Qua- 
ker ; their great stress with regard to color in their 
dress, &;c., is not the only ridiculous part of their 
sentiments with regard to religious matters. 

"There 's not a day, but to the man of thought 
Betrays some secret, that throws new reproach 
On life, and makes him sick of seeing more." 



73 



LETTERS. 



What are your thoughts with regard to Dr. Church ? 
Had you much knowledge of him ? I think you had 
no intimate acquaintance with him. 

" A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man j 
Some sinister intent taints all he does." 

It is matter of great speculation what will be his 
punishment ; the people are much enraged against 
him ; if he is set at liberty, even after he has receiv- 
ed a severe punishment, I do not think he will be 
safe. He will be despised and detested by every 
one, and many suspicions will remain in the minds 
of people in regard to our rulers ; they are for sup- 
posing tliis person is not sincere, and that they have 
jealousy of. 

Have you any prospect of returning } I hoped to 
have heard from you by the gentlemen who came 
as a committee here ; but they have been here a 
week, and I have not any letters. 

My father and sister Betsey desire to be remem- 
bered to you. He is very disconsolate. It makes 
my heart ache to see him, and I know not how to go 
to the house. He said to me the other day, " Child, 
I see your mother, go to what part of the house I 
will." I think he has lost almost as much flesh as 
if he had been sick ; and Betsey, poor girl, looks 
broken and worn with grief. These near connex- 
ions, how they twist and cling about the heart, and 
when torn off, draw the best blood from it. 

" Each friend by fate snatched from us, is a plume 
Plucked from the wing of human vanity." 



LETTERS. 73 

Be so good as to present my regards to Mrs. Han- 
cock. I hope she is very happy. Mrs. Warren 
called upon me on her way to Watertown. I wish I 
could as easily come to you as she can go to Water- 
town. But it is my lot. In the twelve years we 
have been married, I believe we have not lived to- 
gether more than six. 

If you could, with any conveniency, procure me 
the articles I wrote for, I should be very glad, more 
especially the needles and cloth ; they are in such 
demand, that we are really distressed for want of 
them. 

Adieu. I think of nothing further to add, but that 
I am, with the tenderest regard, your 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 22 October, 1775. 
Mr. Lotheop called here this evening, and brought 
me yours of the 1st of October ; a day which will 
ever be remembered by me, for it was the most dis- 
tressing one I ever experienced. That morning I rose, 
and went into my mother's room, not apprehending 
her so near her exit ; went to her bed with a cup of 
tea in my hand, and raised her head to give it to her. 
She swallowed a few drops, gasped, and fell back 
upon her pillow, opening her eyes with a look that 
pierced my heart, and which I shall never forget ; it 
was the eagerness of a last look ; 

"And O, the last sad silence of a friend." 



74 LETTERS. 

Yet she lived till five o'clock that day, but I 
could not be with her. ]\Iy dear father prayed twice 
beside her bed that day. God Almighty was with 
him and supported him that day, and enabled him to 
go through the services of it. It was his communion 
day ; he had there a tender scene to pass through, 
a young granddaughter, Betsey Cranch, joining her- 
self to the church, and a beloved wife dying, to pray 
for. Weeping children, weeping and mourning pa- 
rishioners all round him, for every eye streamed, his 
own heart almost bursting as he spoke. How pain- 
ful is the recollection, and yet how pleasing! 

I know I wound your heart. Why should I .? 
Ought I to give relief to my own by paining yours ? 

"■ Yet the grief, that cannot speak, 
Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it burst." 

My pen is always freer than my tongue. I have 
written many things to you that I suppose I never 
could have talked. My heart is made tender by 
repeated affliction ; it never was a hard heart. The 
death of Patty came very near me, having lived 
four years with me under my care. I hope it will 
make me more continually mindful and watchful of 
all those who are still committed to my charge. 
'T is a great trust ; I daily feel more and more of the 
weight and importance of it, and of my own inabili- 
ty. I wish I could have more of the assistance of 
my dearest friend, but these perilous times swallow 
him up. 

Mr. Lothrop has given me this account of the de- 



LETTERS. 75' 

mand upon Falmouth. A man-of-war and two tend- 
ers went down, and sent to the inhabitants to demand 
their arms, and require them to stand neuter. They 
required time to consider ; they had until nine o'clock 
the next day, which time they employed in remov- 
ing the women, children, and tlie rest of their most 
valuable effects^ out of danger, when they sent their 
answer in the negative. Upon this, the enemy be- 
gan a cannonade, and were continuing it when the 
express came away. Hitchbourne and another gen- 
tleman got out of town in a small boat, one of the 
foggy nights we have had this week. I have not 
heard what intelligence he brings. Another person 
says, that Howe enlarged all the prisoners but Lov- 
ell, and he would not come out. 

I have since seen the Paraphrase,^ as it is called ; 
but 't is as low as the mock oration,^ though no re- 
flection upon your private character, further than 
immoderately whipping your scholars when you kept 
school ; a crime any one will acquit you of who 
knows you. As a specimen of the wit and humor it 
contained, I will give you the title. " A Paraphrase 
upon the Second Epistle of John the Roundhead, to 
James, the Prolocutor of the Rump Parliament. Dear 
Devil," &c. I had it, but it was when I was in so 
much distress that I cared nothing about it. I will 

1 Scurrilous publications, made, by the Tories and British offi- 
cers in Boston, during the siege. The first of these was a para- 
phrase of an intercepted letter of Mr. Adams, to General James 
Warren, then President of the Provincial Congress. 



76 LETTERS, 

mention, when I see yon, the foolish conjectures of 
some, who want always to be finding out something 
extraordinary in whatever happens. 

I hope to hear often from you, which is all the 
alleviation I have in your absence, and is, next to 
seeing you, the greatest comfort of your 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

5 November, 1775. 
I HOPE you have received several letters from me in 
this fortnight past. I wrote by Mr. Lynch and by 
Dr. Franklin, the latter of whom I had the pleasure 
of dining with, and of admiring him, whose charac- 
ter from my infancy I had been taught to venerate. 
I found him social but not talkative, and, when he 
spoke, something useful dropped from his tongue. 
He was grave, yet pleasant and affable. You know 
I make some pretensions to physiognomy, and I 
thought I could read in his countenance the virtues 
of his heart, among which, patriotism shone in its 
full lustre ; and with that is blended every virtue of 
a Christian. For a true patriot must be a religious 
man. I have been led to think from a late defection,^ 
that he who neglects his duty to his Maker, may 
well be expected to be deficient and insincere in his 
duty towards the public. • Even suppose him to pos- 
sess a large share of what is called honor and pub- 
1 Of Dr. Church. 



LETTEBS. 77 

lie spirit, yet, do not these men, by their bad exam- 
ple, by a loose, immoral conduct, corrupt the minds 
of youth, and vitiate the morals of the age, and thus 
injure the public more than they can compensate by 
intrepidity, generosity, and honor ? Let revenge or 
ambition, pride, lust, or profit, tempt these men to a 
base and vile action ; you may as weW hope to bind 
up a hungry tiger with a cobweb, as to hold such 
debauched patriots in the visionary chains of decen- 
cy, or to charm them with the intellectual beauty of 
truth and reason. 

But where am I running ? I mean to thank you 
for all your obliging favors lately received ; and, 
though some of them are very laconic, yet, were 
they to contain only two lines to tell me that you 
were well, they would be acceptable to me. I think 
however, you are more apprehensive than you need 
be ; the gentleman, to whose care they have always 
been directed, has been very kind in his conveyance, 
and very careful. I hope, however, that it will not 
now be long before we shall have nearer interviews. 
You must tell me, that you will return next month ; 
a late appointment^ will make it inconvenient (pro- 
vided you accept) for you to go again to Congress. 

It seems human nature is the same in all ages and 
countries. Ambition and avarice reign everywhere, 
and, where they predominate, there will be bicker- 
ings after places of honor ftnd profit. There is an 
old adage, " Kissing goes by favor," that is daily veri- 

^ That of Chief Justice; alluded to in a preceding letter. 



78 LETTERS. 

fied. I inclose to you the paper you sent for. Your 
business in collecting facts will be very difficult, and 
the sufferings of this people cannot be described 
with pen, ink, and paper. Besides, these ministers of 
Satan are rendering it every day more and more 
difficult, by their ravages and devastation, to tell a 
tale which will freeze the young blood of succeed- 
ing generations, as well as harrow up the souls of 
the present. 

Nothing new has transpired since I wrote you 
last. I have not heard of one person's escape out 
of town, nor of any manoeuvre of any kind. 

I will only ask you to measure by your own the 
affectionate regard of your nearest friend. ^ 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 12 November, 1775. 
The intelligence you will receive before this reaches 
you, will, I should think, make a plain path, though 
a dangerous one, for you. I could not join to-day, in 
the petitions of our worthy pastor, for a reconcilia- 
tion between our no longer parent state, but tyrant 
state, and these colonies. Let us separate ; they are 
unworthy to be our brethren. Let us renounce 
them ; and, instead of supplications as formerly, for 
their prosperity and happiness, let us beseech the 

1 This letter is without signature, as was generally the case 
during the war, when a fictitious one was not attached. 



LETTERS. 79 

Almighty to blast their counsels, and bring to nought 
all their devices. 

I have nothing remarkable to write you. A little 
skirmish happened last week ; the particulars I have 
endeavoured to collect, but whether I have the facts 
right, I am not certain. A number of cattle were 
kept at Lechmere's Point, where Iwj sentinels were 
placed. In a high tide, it is an island ; the regulars 
had observed this, and a scheme was laid to send a 
number of them over and take off the stock. Ac- 
cordingly a number of boats and about four hundred 
men were sent. They landed, it seems, unperceiv- 
ed by the sentinels, who were asleep ; one of whom 
they killed,, and took the other prisoner. As soon 
as they were perceived, they fired the cannon from 
Prospect Hill upon them, which sunk one of their 
boats ; but, as the tide was very high, it was difficult 
getting over, and some time before any alarm was 
given. A Colonel Thompson, of the riflemen, march- 
ed instantly with his men ; and, though a very stormy 
day, they regarded not the tide nor waited for boats, 
but marched over neck high in water, and discharged 
their pieces, when the regulars ran, without wait- 
ing to get off their stock, and made the best of their 
way to the opposite shore. ^ The General sent his 
thanks in a public manner to the brave officer and 
his men. Major Miffiin I hear, was there, and flew 
about as though he woulf have raised the whole 

I This affair also is mentioned in " The Remembrancer " for 
177G; Vol. I. p. 229. 



80 LETTERS. 

army. May they never find us deficient in courage 
and spirit. 

Dr. Franklin invited me to spend the winter in 
Philadelphia. I shall wish to be there, unless you 
return. I have been like a nun in a cloister, ever 
since you went away, and have not been into any 
other house than my father's and sister's, except 
once to Colonel Quincy's. Indeed, I have had no 
inclination for company. My evenings are lone- 
some and melancholy. In the daytime family af- 
fairs take off my attention, but the evenings are 
spent with my departed parent. I then ruminate 
upon all her care and tenderness, and am sometimes 
lost and absorbed in a flood of tenderness, ere I am 
aware of it, or can call to my aid my only prop and 
support. I must bid you adieu ; 't is late at night. 
Most affectionately yours. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

27 November, 1775. 
Colonel Warren returned last week to Plymouth, 
so that I shall not hear any thing from you, until he 
goes back again, which will not be till the last of 
this month. He damped my spirits greatly by tell- 
ing me, that the Court ^ had prolonged your stay 
another month. I wa# pleasing myself with the 
thought, that you would soon be upon your return. 

1 The General Court of the Province. 



LETTERS. 81 

It is in vain to repine. I hope the public will reap 
what I sacrifice. 

I wish I knew what mighty things were fohrica*- 
ing. If a form of government is to be established 
here, what one will be assumed ? Will it be left to 
our Assemblies to choose one ? And will not many- 
men have many minds ? And shall we not run 
into dissensions among ourselves ? 

I am more and more convinced, that man is a 
dangerous creature ; and that power, whether vested 
in many or a few, is ever grasping, and, like the 
grave, cries " Give, give." The great fish swallow 
up the small ; and he, who is most strenuous for the 
rights of the people, when vested with power is as 
eager after the prerogatives of government. You 
tell me of degrees of perfection to which human 
nature is capable of arriving, and I believe it, but, 
at the same time, lament that our admiration should 
arise from the scarcity of the instances. 

The building up a great empire, which was only 
hinted at by my correspondent, may now, I suppose, 
be realized even by the unbelievers. Yet, will not 
ten thousand difficulties arise in the formation of it ? 
The reins of government have been so long slack- 
ened, that I fear the people will not quietly submit 
to those restraints, which are necessary for the peace 
and security of the community. If we separate 
from Britain, what code of laws will be established ? 
How shall we be governed, so as to retain our lib- 
erties ? Can any government be free, which is not 
6 



82 



LETTERS. 



administered by general staled laws ? Who shall 
frame these laws ? Who will give them force and 
energy ? It is true, your resolutions, as a body, 
have hitherto had the force of laws ; but will they 
continue to have ? 

When I consider these things, and the prejudices 
of people in favor of ancient customs and regula- 
tions, I feel anxious for the fate of our monarchy or 
democracy, or whatever is to take place. I soon get 
lost in a labyrinth of perplexities ; but, whatever 
occurs, may justice and righteousness be the stability 
of our times, and order arise out of confusion. Great 
difficulties may be surmounted by patience and per- 
severance. 

I believe, I have tired you with politics ; as to 
news, we have not any at all. I shudder at the 
approach of winter, when I think I am to remain 
desolate. 

I must bid you good night ; 't is late for me, who 
am much of an invalid. I was disappointed last 
week in receiving a packet by the post, and, upon 
unsealing it, finding only four newspapers. I think 
you are more cautious, than you need be. All let- 
ters, I believe, have come safe to hand, I have 
sixteen from you, and wish I had as many more. 
Adieu, yours. 



LETTERS. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 10 December, 1775. 
I RECEIVED your obliging favor by Mrs. Morgan, v^'ith 
the papers and the other articles you sent, which 
were very acceptable to me, as they are not to be 
purchased here. I shall be very choice of them. 

I have, according to your desire, been upon a visit 
to Mrs. Morgan, who keeps at Major Mifflin's. I 
had received a message from Mrs. Mifflin some time 
ago, desiring I would visit her. My father, who, 
you know, is very obliging in this way, accompanied 
me, and I had the pleasure of drinking coffee with 
the Doctor and his lady, the Major and his lady, and 
a Mr. and Mrs. Smith from New York, a daughter 
of the famous son of liberty. Captain Sears ; Generals 
Gates and Lee ; a Dr. M'Henry and a Mr. Elwyn, 
with many others, who were strangers to me. I 
was very politely entertained, and noticed by the 
generals ; more especially General Lee, who was 
very urgent with me to tarry in town, and dine with 
him and the ladies present, at Hobgoblin Hall, but I 
excused myself. The General was determined, that 
I should not only be acquainted with him, but with 
his companions too, and therefore placed a chair 
before me, into which he ordered Mr. Spada to 
mount and present his paw to me for a better ac- 
quaintance. I could not do otherwise than accept 



84 LETTERS. 

it. " That, Madam," says he, " is the dog which 
Mr. has rendered famous." 

I was so Httle while in company with these per- 
sons, and the company so mixed, that it was almost 
impossible to form any judgment of them. The 
Doctor appeared modest, and his lady affable and 
agreeable. Major Mifflin, you know, I was always 
an admirer of, as well as of his delicate lady. I 
believe Philadelphia must be an unfertile soil, or it 
would not produce so many unfruitful women. I al- 
ways conceive of these persons, as wanting one ad- 
dition to their happiness ; but, in these perilous 
times, I know not, whether it ought to be consider- 
ed as an infelicity, since they are certainly freed 
from the anxiety every parent must feel for their 
rising offspring. 

I drank coffee one day with General Sullivan upon 
Winter Hill. He appears to be a man of sense and 
spirit. His countenance denotes him of a warm con- 
stitution, not to be very suddenly moved, but, when 
once roused, not very easily lulled, — easy and so- 
cial, — well calculated for a military station, as he 
seems to be possessed of those popular qualities, 
necessary to attach men to him. 

By the way, I congratulate you upon our late 
noble acquisition of military stores.^ It is a most 
grand mortar, I assure you. Surely Heaven smiles 
upon us in many respects, and we have continually 

1 By the capture of the brig Nancy, bound for Boston, with 
ordnance from Woolwich. 



LETTERS. 85 

to speak of mercies, as well as of judgments. I 
wish our gratitude may be anywise proportionate to 
our benefits. I suppose, in Congress, you think of 
every thing relative to trade and commerce, as well 
as other things ; but, as I have been desired to men- 
tion to you some things, I shall not omit them. 
One is, that there may be something done, in a Con- 
tinental way, with regard to excise upon spirituous 
liquors, that each of the New England colonies may 
be upon the same footing ; whereas we formerly 
used to pay an excise, and the other colonies none, 
or very little, by which means they drew away our 
trade. That an excise is necessary, though it may 
be objected to by the mercantile interest, as a too 
frequent use of spirits endangers the wellbeing of 
society. Another article is, that some method may 
be devised to keep among us our gold and silver, 
which are now every day shipped off to the West In- 
dies for molasses, coffee, and sugar ; and this I can 
say of my own knowledge, that a dollar in silver is 
now become a great rarity, and our traders will give 
you a hundred pounds of paper for ninety of silver, 
or nearly that proportion. If any trade is allowed to 
the West Indies, would it not be better to carry some 
commodity of our own produce in exchange ? Medi- 
cines, cotton, and wool, and some other articles, we 
are in great want of. Formerly we used to purchase 
cotton wool at one shilling, lawful money, per bag; 
now it is three, and the scarcity of that article dis- 
tresses us, as it was wrought up with less trouble 



86 LETTERS. 

than any other article of clothing. Flax is now from 
a shilling to one and sixpence per pound, sheep's 
wool eighteen pence, and linens not to be had at any 
price. I cannot mention the article in the English 
goods way, which is not double ; and, in the West 
India, molasses by retail I used formerly to purchase 
at one and eight pence, — now it is two and eight 
pence ; rum, three shillings ; coffee, one and three 
pence, and all other things in proportion. Corn is 
four shillings per bushel ; rye, five ; oats, three and 
eight pence; hay, five and six shillings per hundred; 
wood, twenty shillings per cord; but meat of all 
kinds cheap. 

My uncle Quincy desires to be remembered to 
you ; he inquired when you talked of coming home. 
I told him you had not fixed any time. He says, if 
you don't come soon, he would advise me to procure 
another husband. He,^ of all persons, ought not to 
give me such advice, I told him, unless he set a 
better example himself. 

Be kind enough to burn this letter. It is written 
in great haste, and a most incorrect scrawl it is. 
But I cannot conclude without telling you, we are all 
very angry with your House of Assembly for their 
instructions.'^ They raise prejudices in the minds of 

1 Norton Quincy, Esquire, the only son of Colonel John Quincy, 
and the uncle of Mrs. Adams, was never married. 

2 It is a little doubtful to what this alludes. Probably to the 
application made by New Hampshire to Congress, for advice to 
establish a form of government for itself. This advice was given, 



LETTERS. 87 

people, and serve to create in their minds a terror at 
a separation from a people wholly unworthy of us. 
We are a little of the spaniel kind ; though so often 
spurned, still to fawn, argues a meanness of spirit, 
that, as an individual, I disclaim, and would rather 
endure any hardship than submit to it. 

Yours. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Saturday Evening, 2 March, 1776. 

I WAS greatly rejoiced, at the return of your servant, 
to find you had safely arrived, and that you were 
well. I had never heard a word from you after you 
had left New York, and a most ridiculous story 
had been industriously propagated in this and the 
neighbouring towns to injure ihe cause and blast your 
reputation; namely, that you and your President^ 
had gone on board of a man-of-war from New York, 
and sailed for England. I should not mention so 
idle a report, but that it had given uneasiness to 
some of your friends ; not that they, in the least, 
credited the report, but because the gaping vulgar 
swallowed the story. One man^ had deserted them 
and proved a traitor, another might, &c. I assure 
you, such high disputes took place in the public 

although not without reluctance. A number of the members op- 
posed it, as being too decisive a step towards independence. — See 
Gordon's " History," Vol. II. p. 150. 

1 John Hancock. ^ ]3r. Church. 



00 LETTERS. 

house of this parish, that some men were collared 
and dragged out of the shop with great threats, for 
reporting such scandalous lies, and an uncle of ours 
offered his life as a forfeit for you, if the report 
proved true. However, it has been a nine days' 
marvel, and will now cease. I heartily wish every 
Tory was extirpated from America ; they are contin- 
ually, by secret means, undermining and injuring 
our cause. 

I am charmed with the sentiments of " Common 
Sense," and wonder how an honest heart, one who 
wishes the welfare of his country and the happi- 
ness of posterity, can hesitate one moment at adopt- 
ing them. I want to know how these sentiments are 
received in Congress. I dare say there would be no 
difficulty in procuring a vote and instructions from all 
the Assemblies in New England for Independency. 

1 most sincerely wish, that now, in the lucky mo- 
ment, it might be done. 

I have been kept in a continual state of anxiety 
and expectation, ever since you left me. It has been 
said " to-morrow " and " to-morrow " for this month, 
but when the dreadful to-morrow will be, I know not. 
But hark ! The house this instant shakes with the 
roar of cannon. I have been to the door and find it 
is a cannonade from our army. Orders, I find, are 
come for all the remaining militia to repair to the 
lines Monday night by twelve o'clock. No sleep for 
me to-night. And if I cannot, who have no guilt 
upon my soul with regard to this cause, how shall 



LETTERS. 89 

the miserable wretches, who have been the pro- 
curers of this dreadful scene, and those who are to 
be the actors, lie down with the load of guilt upon 
their souls ? 

Sunday Evening, 3 March. 

I went to bed after twelve, but got no rest ; the 
cannon continued firing, and my heart beat pace 
with them all night. We have had a pretty quiet 
day, but what to-morrow will bring forth, God only 
knows. 

Monday Evening. 

Tolerably quiet. To-day the militia have all 
mustered, with three days' provision, and are all 
marched by three o'clock this afternoon, though 
their notice was no longer ago than eight o'clock, 
Saturday. And now we have scarcely a man, but 
our regular guards, either in Weymouth, Hing- 
ham, Braintree, or Milton, and the militia from the 
more remote towns are called in as seacoast guards. 
Can you form to yourself an idea of our sensa- 
tions } 

I have just returned from Penn's Hill, where I 
have been sitting to hear the amazing roar of can- 
non, and from whence I could see every shell which 
was thrown. The sound, I think, is one of the 
grandest in nature, and is of the true species of the 
sublime. 'T is now an incessant roar ; but O! the 
fatal ideas, which are connected with the sound ! 
How many of our dear countrymen must fall ! 



90 LETTERS. 

Tuesday Morning, 

I went to bed about twelve, and rose again a little 
after one. I could no more sleep, than if I had been 
in the engagement ; the rattling of the windows, the 
jar of the house, the continual roar of twenty-four 
pounders, and the bursting of shells, give us such 
ideas, and realize a scene to us of which we could 
form scarcely any conception. About six, this morn- 
ing, there was quiet. I rejoiced in a few hours' 
calm. I hear we got possession of Dorchester hill 
last night ; four thousand men upon it to-day ; lost 
but one man. The ships are all drawn round the 
town. To-night we shall realize a more terrible 
scene still. I sometimes think I cannot stand it. I 
wish myself with you, out of hearing, as I cannot 
assist them. I hope to give you joy of Boston, even 
if it is in ruins, before I send this away. I am too 
much agitated to write as I ought, and languid for 
want of rest. 

Thursday. Fast-day. 

All my anxiety and distress is at present at an 
end. I feel disappointed. This day our militia are 
all returning without effecting any thing more than 
taking possession of Dorchester hill. I hope it is 
wise and just, but, from all the muster and stir, I 
hoped and expected more important and decisive 
scenes. I would not have suffered all I have for 
two such hills. Ever since the taking of that, we 
have had a perfect calm ; nor can I learn yet, what 



LETTERS. 91 

effect it has had in Boston. I do not hear of one 
person's escaping since. 

I was very much pleased with your choice of a 
committee for Canada. All those to whom I have 
ventured to show that part of your letter, approve 
the scheme of the priest, as a master-stroke of poli- 
cy.^ I feel sorry, that General Lee has left us, but 
his presence at New York was no doubt of great 
importance, as we have reason to think it prevented 
Clinton from landing and gathering together such a 
nest of vermin, as would at least have distressed us 
greatly. But how can you spare him from here ? 
Can you make his place good ? Can you supply it 
with a man equally qualified to serve us ? How do 
the Virginians relish the troops said to be destined 
for them ? Are they putting themselves into a state 
of defence ? I cannot bear to think of your con- 
tinuing in a state of supineness this winter. 

''There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune j 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 
On such a full sea are we now afloat; 
And we must take the current when it serves, 
Or lose our ventures." 

1 The members chosen on the committee were Dr. Franklin, 
Mr. Samuel Chase, and Mr. Charles Carroll, of Carrollton. At the 
same time it was "Resolved, That Mr. Carroll be requested to 
prevail on Mr. John Carroll to accompany the committee to Can- 
ada, to assist them in such matters as they shall think useful." — 
Journal of Congress. February 15th, 1776. 



92 LETTERS. 

Sunday Evening. 

I had scarcely finished these lines when my ears 
were again assaulted by the roar of cannon. I could 
not write any further. My hand and heart will 
tremble at this " domestic fury and fierce civil strife," 
which " cumber all " our " parts " ; though " blood 
and destruction " are " so much in use," " and dread- 
ful objects so familiar," yet is not " pity choked," 
nor my heart grown callous. I feel for the unhappy 
wretches, who know not where to fly for safety. I 
feel still more for my bleeding countrymen, who are 
hazarding their lives and their limbs. A most ter- 
rible and incessant cannonade from half after eight 
till six this morning. I hear we lost four men killed, 
and some wounded, in attempting to take the hill 
nearest the town, called Nook's Hill. We did some 
work, but the fire from the ships beat off our men, 
so that they did not secure it, but retired to the fort 
upon the other hill. 

I have not got all the particulars ; I wish I had ; 
but, as I have an opportunity of sending this, I shall 
endeavour to be more particular in my next. 

If there are reinforcements here, I believe we shall 
be driven off from the seacoast ; but, in whatever 
state I am, I will endeavour to be therewith content. 

" Man wants but little here below, 
Nor wants that little long." 

You will excuse this very incorrect letter. You 
see in what perturbation it has been written, and 
how many times 1 have left off. Adieu. Yours. 



LETTERS. 



. TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 7 April, 1776. 

I HAVE received all the papers you sent, the oration 
and the magazines. ^In the small papers I sometimes 
find pieces begun and continued, (for instance, John- 
ston's speech,) but am so unlucky as not to get the 
papers in order, and miss of seeing the whole. 

The removal of the army seems to have stopped 
the current of news. I want to know to what part 
of America they are now wandering. It is reported 
and credited, that Manly has taken a schooner be- 
longing to the fleet, richly laden with money, plate, 
and English goods, with a number of Tories. The 
particulars I have not yet learned. Yesterday the 
remains of our worthy General Warren were dug 
up upon Bunker's hill, and carried into town, and on 
Monday are to be interred, with all the honors of 

war. 

10 April. 

The Doctor was buried on Monday ; the masons 
walking in procession from the Statehouse, with the 
military in uniforms, and a large concourse of peo- 
ple attending. He was carried into the Chapel, and 
there a funeral dirge was played, an excellent pray- 
er by Dr. Cooper, and an oration by Mr. Morton, 
which I hope will be printed. I think the subject 
must have inspired him. A young fellow could 
not have wished a finer opportunity to display his 



94 LETTERS. 

talents. The amiable and heroic virtues of the de- 
ceased, recent in the minds of the audience, the 
noble cause to which he fell a martyr ; their own 
sufferings and unparalleled injuries, all fresh in their 
minds, must have given weight and energy to what- 
ever could be delivered upon the occasion. The 
dead body, like that of Ccesar, before their eyes, 
whilst each wound, 

" like dumb mouths, did ope their ruby lips, 
To beg the voice and utterance of a tongue. 
Woe to the hands that shed this costi}' blood, 
A curse shall light" upon their line.i 

11 April. 

I take my pen and write just as I can get time ; 
my letters will be a strange mixture. I really am 
" cumbered about many things," and scarcely know 
which way to turn myself. I miss my partner, and 
find myself unequal to the cares which fall upon me. 
I find it necessary to be the directress of our hus- 
bandry. I hope in time, to have the reputation of 
being as good a farmeress^ as my partner has of 
being a good statesman. To ask you any thing about 
your return, would, I suppose, be asking a question 
which you cannot answer. 

Retirement, rural quiet, domestic pleasures, all, all 

1 The quotations from Shakspeare's "Julius Caesar/' so fre- 
quently to be met with in this and the preceding letter, betray as 
strongly the historical precedents to which the mind of the writer 
at this time inclined, as the signature which she assumed. 



LETTERS. 95 

must give place to the weighty cares of state. It 
would be 

" meanly poor in solitude to hide 
An honest zeal, unwarped by party rage." 

f' Though certain pains attend the cares of state^ 
A good man owes his country to be great, 
Should act abroad the high distinguished part, 
And show, at least, the purpose of his heart." 

I hope your Prussian general^ will answer the high 
character which is given of him. But we, who have 
been bred in a land of liberty, scarcely know how to 
give credit to so unjust and arbitrary a mandate of a 
despot. To cast off a faithful servant only for being 
the unhappy bearer of ill news, degrades the man, 
and dishonors the prince. The Congress, by em- 
ploying him, have shown a liberality of sentiment, 
not confined to colonies or continents, but, to use the 
words of " Common Sense," have " carried their 
friendship on a larger scale, by claiming brotherhood 
with every European Christian, and may justly 
triumph in the generosity of the sentiment." 

Yesterday, was taken and carried into Cohasset, 
by three whaleboats, who went from the shore on 
purpose, a snow from the Grenadas, laden with 
three hundred and fifty-four puncheons of West In- 
dia rum, forty-three barrels of sugar, twelve thou- 

1 Probably the Baron de Woedtke, who was appointed by Con- 
gress a brigadier-general on the IGth of March, and ordered to 
Canada. He died shortly afterwards, at Lake George. — See 
Sparks's edition of " Washington's Writings," Vol. IV. p. 6, note. 



96 LETTERS. 

sand and five hundred weight of coffee ; a valuable 
prize. A number of Eastern sloops have brought 
vi^ood into town since the fleet sailed. We have a 
rumor of Admiral Hopkins being engaged with a 
number of ships and tenders off Rhode Island ; and 
are anxious to know the event. Be so good as to 
send me a list of the vessels which sail with Hop- 
kins, their names, weight of metal, and number of 
men ; all the news you know, &c. 

I hear our jurors refuse to serve, because the writs 
are issued in the King's name. Surely, they are for 
independence. 

Write me how you do this winter. I want to say 
many things I must omit. It is not fit " to wake the 
soul by tender strokes of art," or to ruminate upon 
happiness we might enjoy, lest absence become in- 
tolerable. Adieu. Yours. 

I wish you would burn all my letters. 



TO JOHN AD^MS. 

Braintree, 7 May, 1776. 
How many are the solitary hours I spend, ruminat- 
ing upon the past, and anticipating the future, whilst 
you, overwhelmed with the cares of state, have but 
a few moments you can devote to any individual. 
All domestic pleasures and enjoyments are absorbed 
in the great and important duty you owe your coun- 



LETTERS. 97 

try, " for our country is, as it were, a secondary 
god, and the first and greatest parent. It is to be 
preferred to parents, wives, children, friends, and all 
things, the gods only excepted ; for, if our country 
perishes, it is as impossible to save an individual, as 
to preserve one of the fingers of a mortified hand," 
Thus do I suppress every wish, and silence every 
murmur, acquiescing in a painful separation from 
the companion of my youth, and the friend of my 
heart. 

I believe 't is near ten days since I wrote you a 
line. I have not felt in a humor to entertain you if 
I had taken up my pen. Perhaps some unbecoming 
invective might have fallen from it. The eyes of 
our rulers have been closed, and a lethargy has seiz- 
ed almost every member. I fear a fatal security 
has taken possession of them. Whilst the building 
is in flames, they tremble at the expense of water to 
quench it. In short, two months have elapsed since 
the evacuation of Boston, and very little has been 
done in that time to secure it, or the harbour, from 
future invasion. The people are all in a flame, and 
no one among us, that I have heard of, even men- 
tions expense. They think, universally, that there 
has been an amazing neglect somewhere. Many 
have turned out as volunteers to work upon Noddle's 
Island, and many more would go upon Nantasket, if 
the business was once set on foot. " 'T is a maxim 
of state, that power and liberty are like heat and 
moisture. Where they are well mixed, every thing 



98 LETTERS. 

prospers ; where they are single, they are destruc- 
tive." 

A government of more stability is much wanted 
in this colony, and they are ready to receive it from 
the hands of the Congress. And since I have begun 
with maxims of state, I will add another, namely, 
that a people may let a king fall, yet still remain a 
people ; but, if a king let his people slip from him, 
he is no longer a king. And as this is most certainly 
our case, why not proclaim to the world, in decisive 
terms, your own importance ? 

Shall we not be despised by foreign powers, for 
hesitating so long at a word ? 

I cannot say, that I think you are very generous to 
the ladies; for, whilst you are proclaiming peace and 
good-will to men, emancipating all nations, you in- 
sist upon retaining an absolute power over wives. 
But you must remember, that arbitrary power is like 
most other things which are very hard, very liable 
to be broken ; and, notwithstanding all your wise laws 
and maxims, we have it in our power, not only to 
free ourselves, but to subdue our masters, and, with- 
out violence, throw both your natural and legal au- 
thority at our feet ; — 



' Charm by accepting, by submitting sway, 
Yet have our humor most when we obey 



I thank you for several letters which I have re- 
ceived since I wrote last ; they alleviate a tedious 
absence, and I long earnestly for a Saturday even- 



LETTERS. 99 

ing, and experience a similar pleasure to that which 
I used to find in the return of my friend upon that 
day after a week's absence. The idea of a year 
dissolves all my philosophy. 

Our little ones, whom you so often recommend to 
my care and instruction, shall not be deficient in 
virtue or probity, if the precepts of a mother have 
their desired effect ; but they would be doubly en- 
forced, could they be indulged with the example of a 
father alternately before them. I often point them 
to their sire, 

" engaged in a corrupted state, 
Wrestling with vice and faction." 

9 May. 

I designed to have finished the sheet, but, an op- 
portunity offering, I close, only just informing you 
that. May the 7th, our privateers took two prizes in 
the bay, in fair sight of the man-of-war ; one, a brig 
from Ireland ; the other from Fayal, loaded with 
wine, brandy, &c. ; the other with beef, &c. The 
wind was east, and a flood tide, so that the tenders 
could not get out, though they tried several times ; 
the lighthouse fired signal guns, but all would not do. 
They took them in triumph, and carried them into 
Lynn. 

Pray be kind enough to remember me at all times, 
and write, as often as you possibly can, to your 

Portia. 



100 LETTERS. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Plymouth, 17 June, 1776. 

I THIS day received by the hands of our worthy 
friend, a large packet, which has refreshed and com- 
forted me. Your own sensations have ever been 
similar to mine. I need not then tell you how grati- 
fied I am at the frequent tokens of remembrance 
with which you favor me, nor how they rouse every 
tender sensation of my soul, which sometimes will 
find vent at my eyes. Nor dare I describe how 
earnestly I long to fold to my too fluttering heart the 
object of my warmest affections ; the idea soothes 
me. I feast upon it with a pleasure known only to 
those whose hearts and hopes are one. 

The approbation you give to my conduct in the 
management of our private affairs, is very grateful 
to me, and sufficiently compensates for all my anxi- 
eties and endeavours to discharge the many duties 
devolved upon me in consequence of the absence of 
my dearest friend. Were they discharged according 
to my wishes, I should merit the praises you bestow. 

You see I date from Plymouth. I came upon a 
visit to our amiable friends, accompanied by my sis- 
ter Betsey, a day or two ago. It is the first night I 
have been absent since you left me. Having deter- 
mined upon this visit for some time, I put my family 
in order and prepared for it, thinking 1 might leave 
it with safety. Yet, the day I set out, I was unraer 



LETTERS. 101 

many apprehensions, by the coming in of ten trans- 
ports, who were seen to have many soldiers on board, 
and the determination of the people to go and fortify 
upon Long Island, Pettick's Island, Nantasket, and 
Great Hill. It was apprehended they would attempt 
to land somewhere, but the next morning I had the 
pleasure to hear they were all driven out. Commo- 
dore and all ; not a transport, a ship, or a tender 
to be seen. This shows what might have been long 
ago done. Had this been done in season, the ten 
transports, with many others, in all probability would 
have fallen into our hands ; but the progress of wis- 
dom is slow. 

Since I arrived here I have really had a scene 
quite novel to me. The brig Defence, from Con- 
necticut, put in here for ballast. The officers, who 
are all from thence, and who are intimately ac- 
quainted at Dr. Lothrop's, invited his lady to come 
on board, and bring with her as many of her friends 
as she could collect. She sent an invitation to our 
friend, Mrs. Warren, and to us. The brig lay about 
a mile and a half from town. The officers sent 
their barge, and we went. Every mark of respect 
and attention which was in their power, they showed 
us. She is a fine brig, mounts sixteen guns, twelve 
swivels, and carries one hundred and twenty men. 
A hundred and seventeen were on board, and no 
private family ever appeared under better regulation 
than the crew. It was as still as though there had 
been only half a dozen ; not a profane word among 



102 LETTERS. 

any of them. The captain himself is an exempla- 
ry man. Harden (his name) has been in nine sea 
engagements ; says if he gets a man who swears, 
and finds he cannot reform him, he turns him on 
shore, yet is free to confess, that it was the sin of his 
youth. He has one lieutenant, a very fine fellow, 
Smelden by name. We spent a very agreeable af- 
ternoon, and drank tea on board. They showed us 
their arms, which were sent by Queen Anne, and 
everything on board was a curiosity to me. They 
gave us a mock engagement with an enemy, and the 
manner of taking a ship. The young folks went 
upon the quarter deck and danced. Some of their 
Jacks played very well upon the violin and German 
flute. The brig bears the Continental colors, and 
was fitted out by the Colony of Connecticut. As we 
set off from the brig, they fired their guns in honor 
to us, a ceremony I would very readily have dis- 
pensed with. 

I pity you, and feel for you under all the difficul- 
ties you have to encounter. My daily petitions to 
Heaven for you are, that you may have health, 
wisdom, and fortitude sufficient to carry you through 
the great and arduous business in which you are en- 
gaged, and that your endeavours may be crowned 
with success. Canada seems a dangerous and ill- 
fated place. It is reported here, that General Thom- 
as is no more, that he took the smallpox, and died 
with it. Every day some circumstance arises, which 
shows me the importance of having the distemper 



LETTERS. 103 

in youth. Dr. Bulfinch has petitioned the General 
Court for leave to open a hospital somewhere, and 
it will be granted hiin. I shall, with all the children, 
be one of the first class, you may depend upon it. 

I have just this moment heard, that the brig, which 
I was on board of on Saturday, and which sailed 
yesterday morning from this place, fell in with two 
transports, having each of them a hundred and fifty 
men on board, and took them, and has brought them 
into Nantasket Roads, under cover of the guns 
which are mounted there. I will add further particu- 
lars as soon as I am informed. 

I am now better informed, and will give you the 
truth. The brig Defence^ accompanied by a small 
privateer, sailed in concert Sunday morning. About 
twelve o'clock they discovered two transports, and 
made for them. Two privateers, which were small, 
had been in chase of them, but finding the enemy 
was of much larger force, had run under Cohasset 
rocks. The Defence gave a signal gun to bring 
them out. Captain Burk, who accompanied the De- 
fence^ being a prime sailer, he came up first, and 
poured a broadside on board a sixteen gun brig. 
The Defence soon attacked her upon her bows. An 
obstinate engagement ensued. There was a con- 
tinual blaze upon all sides for many hours, and it 
was near midnight before they struck. In the en- 
gagement, the Defence lost one man, and five wound- 
ed. With Burk, not one man received any dam- 
age ; on board the enemy, fourteen killed, among 



104 LETTERS. 

whom was a major, and sixty wounded. They are 
part of the Highland soldiers. The other transport 
mounted six guns. When the fleet sailed out of this 
harbour last week, they blew up the lighthouse. 
They met six transports coming in, which they car- 
ried off with them. I hope we shall soon be in such 
a posture of defence, as to bid them defiance. 

I feel no great anxiety at the large armament de- 
signed against us. The remarkable interpositions of 
Heaven in our favor cannot be too gratefully ac- 
knowledged. He who fed the Israelites in the wil- 
derness, " who clothes the lilies of the field, and feeds 
the young ravens when they cry," will not forsake a 
people engaged in so righteous a cause, if we re- 
member his loving-kindness. We wanted powder, 
— we have a supply. We wanted arms, — we have 
been favored in that respect. We wanted hard mon- 
ey, — twenty-two thousand dollars, and an equal 
value in plate, are delivered into our hands. 

You mention your peas, your cherries, and your 
strawberries, &c. Ours are but just in blossom. We 
have had the coldest spring I ever knew. Things 
are three weeks behind what they generally used to 
be. The corn looks poor. The season now is rath- 
er dry. I believe I did not understand you, when in 
a former letter you said, " I want to resign my of- 
fice, for a thousand reasons." If you mean that of 
judge, I know not what to say. I know it will be a 
difficult and arduous station ; but, divesting myself 
of private interest, which would lead me to be against 



LETTERS. 105 

your holding that office, I know of no person who 
is so well calculated to discharge the trust, or who I 
think would act a more conscientious part. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

29 September, 1776. 
Not since the 5th of September, have I had one line 
from you, which makes me very uneasy. Are you 
all this time conferring with his Lordship ? ^ Is there 
no communication ? or, are the post-riders all dis- 
missed ? Let the cause be what it will, not hear- 
ing from you has given me much uneasiness. 

We seem to be kept in total ignorance of affairs 
at York. I hope you at Congress are more enlight- 
ened. Who fell, who are wounded, who prisoners or 
their number, is as undetermined as it was the day 
after the battle.^ If our army is in ever so critical a 
state I wish to know it, and the worst of it. If all 
America is to be ruined and undone by a pack of 
cowards and knaves, I wish to know it. Pitiable is 
the lot of their commander. Caesar's tenth legion 
never was forgiven. We are told for truth, that a 
regiment of Yorkers refused to quit the city ; and, 

1 Dr. Franklin, Mr. John Adams, and Mr. Rutledge, were elected 
a Committee on the part of Congress, to confer with Lord Howe, 
respecting his powers to treat. — Journals of Congress, Septem- 
ber 6th, 1776. 

2 On Long Island. 



106 LETTERS. 

that another regiment behaved like a pack of cow- 
ardly villains by quitting their posts. If they are 
unjustly censured, it is for want of proper intelli- 
gence. 

I am sorry to see a spirit so venal prevailing ev- 
erywhere. When our men were drawn out for Can- 
ada, a very large bounty was given them ; and now 
another call is made upon us ; no one will go without 
a large bounty, though only for two months, and each 
town seems to think its honor engaged in outbidding 
the others. The province pay is forty shillings. In 
addition to that, this town voted to make it up six 
pounds. They then drew out the persons most un- 
likely to go, and they are obliged to give three 
pounds to hire a man. Some pay the whole fine, 
ten pounds. Forty men are now drafted from this 
town. More than one half, from sixteen to fifty, 
are now in the service. This method of conducting 
will create a general uneasiness in the Continental 
army. I hardly think you can be sensible how 
much we are thinned in this province. 

The rage for privateering is as great here as any- 
where. Vast numbers are employed in that way. 
If it is necessary to make any more drafts upon 
us, the women must reap the harvests. I am willing 
to do my part. I believe I could gather corn, and 
husk it ; but I should make a poor figure at digging 
potatoes. 

There has been a report, that a fleet was seen in 



LETTERS. 107 

our bay yesterday. I cannot conceive from whence, 
nor do I believe the story. 

'T is said you have been upon Staten Island to 
hold your conference. 'T is a little odd, that I have 
never received the least intimation of it from you. 
Did you think I should be alarmed ? Don't you 
know me better than to think me a coward ? I hope 
you will write me everything concerning this affair. 
I have a great curiosity to know the result. 

As to government, nothing is yet done about it. 
The Church is opened here every Sunday, and the 
King prayed for, as usual, in open defiance of Con- 
gress. 

If the next post does not bring me a letter, I think 
I will leave off writing, for I shall not believe you 
get mine. 

Adieu. Yours, 

P. S. Master John has become post-rider from 
Boston to Braintree. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

30 July, 1777. 
I DARE say, before this time you have interpreted the 
Northern Storm. If the presages chilled your blood, 
how must you be frozen and stiffened at the disgrace 
brought upo.i our arms ! ^ unless some warmer pas- 

1 The evacuation of Ticonderoga and Mount Independence, by 
General St. Clair. 



108 LETTERS. 

sion seize you, and anger and resentment fire your 
breast. How are all our vast magazines of cannon, 
powder, arms, clothing, provision, medicine, &c., to 
be restored to us ? But, what is vastly more, how 
shall the disgrace be wiped away ? How shall our 
lost honor be retrieved ? The reports with regard 
to that fortress are very vague and uncertain. Some 
write from thence, that there was not force sufficient 
to defend it. Others say it might have stood a long 
siege. Some there are, who ought to know why and 
wherefore we have given away a place of such im- 
portance. 

That the inquiry will be made, I make no doubt ; 
and, if cowardice, guilt, deceit, are found upon any 
one, howsoever high or exalted his station, may 
shame, reproach, infamy, hatred, and the execrations 
of the public, be his portion. 

I would not be so narrow-minded, as to suppose, 
that there are not many men of all nations, possess- 
ed of honor, virtue, and integrity ; yet it is to be la- 
mented, that we have not men among ourselves, suf- 
ficiently qualified for war, to take upon them the 
most important command. 

It was customary among the Carthaginians, to 
have a military school, in which the flower of their 
nobility, and those whose talents and ambition 
prompted them to aspire to the first dignities, learned 
the art of war. From among these, they selected 
all their general officers ; for, though they employed 
mercenary soldiers, they were too jealous and sus- 



LETTERS. 109 

picious to employ foreign generals. Will a foreign- 
er, whose interest is not naturally connected with 
ours (any otherwise than as the cause of liberty is 
the cause of all mankind), will he act with the same 
zeal, or expose himself to equal dangers, with the 
same resolution, for a republic of which he is not a 
member, as he would have done for his own native 
country ? And can the people repose an equal con- 
fidence in them, even supposing them men of integ- 
rity and abilities, and that they meet with success 
equal to their abilities ? How much envy and malice 
are employed against them ! And how galling to 
pride, how mortifying to human nature, to see itself 
excelled. 

31 July. 
I have nothing new to entertain you with, unless 
it is an account of a new set of mobility, which has 
lately taken the lead in Boston. You must know 
that there is a great scarcity of sugar and coffee, 
articles which the female part of the state is very 
loth to give up, especially whilst they consider the 
scarcity occasioned by the merchants having secret- 
ed a large quantity. There had been much rout 
and noise in the town for several weeks. Some 
stores had been opened by a number of people, and 
the coffee and sugar carried into the market, and 
dealt out by pounds. It was rumored that an emi- 
nent, wealthy, stingy merchant (who is a bachelor) 
had a hogshead of coffee in his store, which he refus- 
ed to sell to the committee under six shillings per 



110 LETTERS. 

pound. A number of females, some say a hundred, 
some say more, assembled with a cart and trucks, 
marched down to the warehouse, and demanded the 
keys, which he refused to deliver. Upon which, one 
of them seized him by his neck, and tossed him into 
the cart. Upon his finding no quarter, he delivered 
the keys, when they tipped up the cart and discharg- 
ed him ; then opened the warehouse, hoisted out the 
coffee themselves, put it into the truck, and drove off. 

It was reported, that he had personal chastisement 
among them ; but this, I believe, was not true. A 
large concourse of men stood amused, silent specta- 
tors of the whole transaction. 

Adieu. Your good mother is just come ; she 
desires to be remembered to you ; so do my father 
and sister, who have just left me, and so does she, 
whose greatest happiness consists in being tenderly 
beloved by her absent friend, and who subscribes 

herself ever his 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

5 August, 1777. 

If alarming half a dozen places at the same time is 
an act of generalship, Howe may boast of his late 
conduct. We have never, since the evacuation of 
Boston, been under apprehensions of an invasion 
from them, equal to what we suffered last week. 
All Boston was in confusion, packing up and carting 



LETTERS. Ill 

out of town household furniture, military stores, 
goods, &c. Not less than a thousand teams were em- 
ployed on Friday and Saturday ; and, to their shame 
be it told, not a small trunk would they carry under 
eight dollars, and many of them, I am told, asked a 
hundred dollars a load ; for carting a hogshead of 
molasses eight miles, thirty dollars. O human na- 
ture ! or rather, O inhuman nature ! what art thou ? 
The report of the fleet's being seen off Cape Ann 
Friday night gave me the alarm, and, though pretty 
weak, I set about packing up my things, and on 
Saturday removed a load. 

When I looked around me and beheld the boun- 
ties of Heaven so liberally bestowed, in fine fields of 
corn, grass, flax, and English grain, and thought it 
might soon become a prey to these merciless rav- 
agers, our habitations laid waste, and, if our flight 
preserved our lives, we must return to barren fields, 
empty barns, and desolate habitations, if any we 
find, (perhaps not where to lay our heads,) my heart 
was too full to bear the weight of aflliction which I 
thought just ready to overtake us, and my body too 
weak almost to bear the shock, unsupported by my 
better half. 

But, thanks be to Heaven, we are at present re- 
lieved from our fears respecting' ourselves. I now 
feel anxious for your safety, but hope prudence will 
direct to a proper care and attention to yourselves. 
May this second attempt of Howe's prove his utter 
ruin. May destruction overtake him as a whirlwind. 



112 LETTERS. 

We have a report of an engagement at the north- 
ward, in which our troops behaved well, drove the 
enemy into their lines, killed and took three hun- 
dred and fifty prisoners. The account came in last 
night. I have not particulars. We are under ap- 
prehensions that the Hancock is taken. 

Your obliging letters of the 8th, 10th, and 13th, 
came to hand last week. I hope before this time 
you are relieved from the anxiety you express for 
your bosom friend. I feel my sufferings amply re- 
warded, in the tenderness you express for me. But, 
in one of your letters, you have drawn a picture 
which drew a flood of tears from my eyes, and 
wrung my heart with anguish inexpressible. I pray 
Heaven, I may not live to realize it. 

It is almost thirteen years since we were united, 
but not more than half that time have we had the 
happiness of living together. The unfeeling world 
may consider it in what light they please. I con- 
sider it as a sacrifice to my country, and one of my 
greatest misfortunes, to be separated from my child- 
ren, at a time of life when the joint instructions and 
admonition of parents sink deeper than in maturer 
years. 

The hope of the smiles and approbation of my 
friend sweetens all my toils and labors. 

" Ye Powers, whom men and birds obey, 
Great rulers of your creatures, say 
Why mourning comes, by bliss conveyed, 
And even the sweets of love allayed. 



LETTERS. 113 



Where grows enjoyment tall and fair, 
Around it twines entangling care ; 
While fear for what our sons possess 
Enervates every power to bless. 
Yet friendship forms the bliss above, 
And, life, what art thou without love ? 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

17 September, 1777. 
I HAVE to acknowledge a feast of letters from you 
since I wrote last ; their dates from August 19th 
to September 1st. It is a very great satisfaction to 
me to know from day to day the movement of Howe 
and his banditti. We live in hourly expectation of 
important intelligence from both armies. Heaven 
grant us victory and peace ; two blessings, I fear, 
we are very undeserving of 

Enclosed you will find a letter to Mr. Lovell,^ who 
was so obliging as to send me a plan of that part of 
the country, which is like to be the present seat of 
war. He accompanied it with a very polite letter, 
and I esteem myself much obliged to him ; but there 
is no reward this side the grave that would be a 
temptation to me to undergo the agitation and dis- 
tress I was thrown into by receiving a letter in his 
handwriting, franked by him. It seems almost im- 
possible, that the human mind could take in, in so 

1 James Lovell ; at this time, and for several years after, a dele- 
gate from Massachusetts to the General Congress, ^ 
8 



114 LETTERS. 

small a space of time, so many ideas as rushed upon 
mine in the space of a moment. I cannot describe 
to you what I felt. 

The sickness or death of the dearest of friends, 
with ten thousand horrors, seized my imagination. I 
took up the letter, then laid it down, then gave it out 
of my hand unable to open it, then collected reso- 
lution enough to unseal it, but dared not read it ; 
began at the bottom, — read a line, — then attempt- 
ed to begin it, but could not. A paper was enclosed, 
I ventured upon that, and, finding it a plan, recover- 
ed enough to read the letter ; but I pray Heaven, I 
may never realize such another moment of distress. 

I designed to have written you a long letter, for 
really I owe you one, but have been prevented by 
our worthy Plymouth friends, who are here upon a 
visit, in their way home ; and it is now so late at 
night, just struck twelve, that I will defer any thing 
further till the next post. Good night, friend of my 
heart, companion of my youth, husband, and lover. 
Angels watch thy repose ! 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Boston, 25 October, 1777. 
The joyful news of the surrender of General Bur- 
goyne and all his army, to our victorious troops, 
prompted me to take a ride this afternoon with my 
daughter to town, to join, to-morrow, with my friends 



LETTERS. 115 

in thanksgiving and praise to the Supreme Being, 
who hath so remarkably delivered our enemies into 
our hands. And, hearing that an express is to go off 
to-morrow morning, I have retired to write you a few 
lines. I have received no letters from you since you 
left Philadelphia^ by the post, and but one by any 
private hand. 

Burgoyne is expected in by the middle of the 
week. I have read many articles of capitulation, 
but none which ever before contained so generous 
terms. Many people find fault with them, but per- 
haps do not consider sufficiently the circumstances 
of General Gates, who, by delaying and exacting 
more, might have lost all. This must be said of 
him, that he has followed the golden rule, and done 
as he would wish himself, in like circumstances, to 
be dealt with. Must not the vaporing Burgoyne, 
who, it is said, possesses great sensibility, be humbled 
to the dust ? He may now write the Blockade of 
Saratoga. 1 have heard it proposed, that he should 
take up his quarters in the Old South, but believe 
he will not be permitted to come to this town. 
Heaven grant us success at the southward. That 
saying of Poor Kichard often occurs to my mind, 
" God helps them who help themselves ; " but, if men 
turn their backs and run from an enemy, they cannot 
surely expect to conquer him. 

This day, dearest of friends, completes thirteen 
years since we were solemnly united in wedlock. 

1 For Yorktown, whither the Congress had adjourned. 



116 LETTERS. 

Three years of the time we have been cruelly sep- 
arated. I have, patiently as I could, endured it, with 
the belief that you were serving your country, and 
rendering your fellow-creatures essential benefits. 
May future generations rise up and call you blessed, 
and the present behave worthy of the blessings you 
are laboring to secure to them, and I shall have less 
reason to regret the deprivation of my own particu- 
lar felicity. 

Adieu, dearest of friends, adieu. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

8 March, 1778. 

'T IS a little more than three weeks since the dearest 
of friends and tenderest of husbands left ^ his solitary 
partner, and quitted all the fond endearments of 
domestic felicity for the dangers of the sea, exposed, 
perhaps, to the attack of a hostile foe, and, O good 
Heaven! can I add, to the dark assassin, to the secret 
murderer, and the bloody emissary of as cruel a 
tyrant as God, in his righteous judgments, ever suf- 
fered to disgrace the throne of Britain. 

I have travelled with you over the wide Atlantic, 
and could have landed you safe, with humble confi- 
dence, at your desired haven, and then have set 
myself down to enjoy a negative kind of happiness, 

1 Mr. Adams, with his eldest son, sailed for France in the frig- 
ate Boston in February of this year. 



LETTERS. 117 

in the painful part which it has pleased Heaven to 
allot me ; but the intelligence with regard to that 
great philosopher, able statesman, and unshaken 
friend of his country,'^ has planted a dagger in my 
breast, and I feel, with a double edge, the weapon 
that pierced the bosom of a Franklin. 

" For nought avail the virtues of the heart, 

Nor towering genius claims its due reward ; 
From Britain's fury, as from death's keen dart, 
No worth can save us, and no fame can guard." 

The more distinguished the person, the greater 
the inveteracy of these foes of human nature. The 
argument of my friends to alleviate my anxiety, by 
persuading me that this shocking attempt will put 
you more upon your guard and render your person 
more secure than if it had never taken place, is kind 
in them, and has some weight ; but my greatest com- 
fort and consolation arise from the belief of a su- 
perintending Providence to whom I can, with confi- 
dence, commit you, since not a sparrow falls to the 
ground without his notice. Were it not for this, I 
should be miserable and overwhelmed by my fears 
and apprehensions. 

Freedom of sentiment, the life and soul of friend- 
ship, is in a great measure cut off by the danger of 
miscarriages, and the apprehension of letters falling 
into the hands of our enemies. Should this meet 
with that fate, may they blush for their connexion 

2 An unfunded rumor of the assassination of Dr. Franklin in 
Paris. 



118 LETTERS. 

with a nation, who have rendered themselves infa- 
mous and abhorred, by a long list of crimes, which 
not their high achievements, nor the lustre of former 
deeds, nor the tender appellation of parent, nor the 
fond connexion, which once subsisted, can ever blot 
from our remembrance, nor wipe out those indelible 
stains of their cruelty and baseness. They have en- 
graven them with a pen of iron on a rock for ever. 

To my dear son remember me in the most affec- 
tionate terms. I would have written to him, but my 
notice is so short that I have not time. Enjoin it 
upon him, never to disgrace his mother, and to be- 
have worthily of his father. Tender as maternal 
affection is, it was swallowed up in what I found a 
stronger, or so intermixed that I felt it not in its full 
force till after he had left me. I console myself with 
the hopes of his reaping advantages under the care- 
ful eye of a tender parent, which it was not in my 
power to bestow upon him. 

There has nothing material taken place in the po- 
litical world since you left us. This letter will go by 
a vessel for Bilboa, from whence you may, perhaps, 
get better opportunities of conveyance than from any 
other place. The letter you delivered to the pilot 
came safe to hand. All the little folks are anxious 
for the safety of their papa and brother, to whom 
they desire to be remembered ; to which is added the 
tenderest sentiments of affection, and the fervent 
prayers for your happiness and safety, of your 

Portia. 



LETTERS. 11^ 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

18 May, 1T78. 

I HAVE waited with great patience, restraining, as 
much as possible, every anxious idea for three 
months. But now every vessel which arrives sets 
my expectation upon the wing, and I pray my guard- 
ian genius to waft me the happy tidings of your safe- 
ty and welfare. Hitherto my wandering ideas have 
roved, like the son of Ulysses, from sea to sea, and 
from shore to shore, not knowing where to find you ; 
sometimes I fancied you upon the mighty waters, — 
sometimes at your desired haven, — sometimes upon 
the ungrateful and hostile shore of Britain, — but at 
all times, and in all places, under the protecting care 
and guardianship of that Being, who not only clothes 
the lilies of the field, and hears the young ravens 
when they cry, but hath said, " Of how much more 
worth are ye than many sparrows ;" and this con- 
fidence, which the world cannot deprive me of, is 
my food by day, and my rest by night, and was all 
my consolation under the horrid ideas of assassina- 
tion, — the only event of .which I had not thought, 
and, in some measure, prepared my mind. 

When my imagination sets you down upon the 
Gallic shore, a land to which Americans are now 
bound to transfer their affections, and to eradicate 
all those national prejudices, which the proud and 
haughty nation, whom we once revered, craftily in- 



120 LETTERS. 

stilled into us, wliom they once styled their children, 
I anticipate the pleasure you must feel, and, though 
so many leagues distant, share in the joy of finding 
the great interest of our country so generously es- 
poused and nobly aided by so powerful a monarch. 
Your prospects must be much brightened ; for, when 
you left your native land, they were rather gloomy. 
If an unwearied zeal and persevering attachm.ent to 
the cause of truth and justice, regardless of the al- 
lurements of ambition on the one hand, or the threats 
of calamity on the other, can entitle any one to the 
reward of peace, liberty, and safety, a large portion 
of those blessings are reserved for my friend in his 
native land. 

"O! wouldst thou keep thy country's loud applause, 
Loved as her father, as her God adored, 
Be still the bold asserter of her cause, 
Her voice in council ; (in the fight her sword ;) 
In peace, in war, pursue thy country's good, 
For her, bare thy bold breast and pour thy generous blood." 

Difficult as the day is, cruel as this war has been, 
separated as I am, on account of it, from the dearest 
connexion in life, I would not exchange my country 
for the wealth of the Indies, or be any other than an 
American, though I might be queen or empress of 
any nation upon the globe. My soul is unambitious 
of pomp or power. Beneath my humble roof, bless- 
ed with the society and tenderest affection of my 
dear partner, I have enjoyed as much felicity and as 
exquisite happiness, as falls to the share of mortals. 



LETTERS. 121 

And, though I have been called to sacrifice to my 
country, I can glory in my sacrifice and derive pleas- 
ure from my intimate connexion with one, who is 
esteemed worthy of the important trust devolved 
upon him. 

Britain, as usual, has added insult to injustice and 
cruelty, by what she calls a conciHatory plan. From 
my soul I despise her meanness ; but she has long 
ago lost that treasure, which, a great authority tells 
us, exalteth a nation, and is receiving the reproaches 
due to her crimes. I have been much gratified with 
the perusal of the Duke of Richmond's speech. 
Were there ten such men to be found, I should still 
have some hopes, that a revolution would take place 
in favor of the virtuous few, " and the laws, the 
rights, the generous plan of power delivered down 
from age to age by our renowned forefathers," be 
again restored to that unhappy island. 

Our public finances are upon no better footing 
than they were when you left us. Five hundred dol- 
lars is now offered by this town, per man, for nine 
months, to recruit the army. Twelve pounds a month 
for farming labor is the price, and it is not to be 
procured under. Our friends are all well and desire 
to be remembered to you. So many tender senti- 
ments rush upon my mind, when about to close this 
letter to you, that I can only ask you to measure 
them by those which you find in your own bosom for 
Your affectionate 

Portia. 



122 LETTERS. 



TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

June, 1778. 

MY DEAR SON, 

'T IS almost four months since you left your native 
land, and embarked upon the mighty waters, in quest 
of a foreign country. Although I have not particu- 
larly written to you since, yet you may be assured 
you have constantly been upon my heart and mind. 

It is a very difficult task, my dear son, for a ten- 
der parent to bring her mind to part with a child of 
your years going to a distant land ; nor could I have 
acquiesced in such a separation under any other care 
than that of the most excellent parent and guardian 
who accompanied you. You have arrived at years 
capable of improving under the advantages you will 
be likely to have, if you do but properly attend to 
them. They are talents put into your hands, of 
which an account will be required of you hereafter ; 
and, being possessed of one, two, or four, see to it 
that you double your numbers. 

The most amiable and most useful disposition in a 
young mind is diffidence of itself; and this should 
lead you to seek advice and instruction from him, 
who is your natural guardian, and will always coun- 
sel and direct you in the best manner, both for your 
present and future happiness. You are in possession 
of a natural good understanding, and of spirits un- 
broken by adversity and untamed with care. Im- 



LETTERS. 123 

prove your understanding by acquiring useful knowl- 
edge and virtue, such as will render you an orna- 
ment to society, an honor to your country, and a 
blessing to your parents. Great learning and supe- 
rior abilities, should you ever possess them, will be 
of little value and small estimation, unless virtue, 
honor, truth, and integrity are added to them. Ad- 
here to those religious sentiments and principles 
which were early instilled into your mind, and re- 
member, that you are accountable to your Maker 
for all your words and actions. 

Let me enjoin it upon you to attend constantly and 
steadfastly to the precepts and instructions of your 
father, as you value the happiness of your mother 
and your own welfare. His care and attention to 
you render many things unnecessary for me to 
write, which I might otherwise do ; but the inadver- 
tency and heedlessness of youth require line upon 
line and precept upon precept, and, when enforced 
by the joint efforts of both parents, will, I hope, have 
a due influence upon your conduct ; for, dear as you 
are to me, I would much rather you should have 
found your grave in the ocean you have crossed, or 
that any untimely death crop you in your infant 
years, than see you an immoral, profligate, or grace- 
less child. 

You have entered early in life upon the great 
theatre of the world, which is full of temptations 
and vice of every kind. You are not wholly unac- 
quainted with history, in which you have read of 



124 LETTERS. 

crimes which your inexperienced mind could scarce- 
ly believe credible. You have been taught to think 
of them with horror, and to view vice as 

" a monster of so frightful mien, 
That, to be hated, needs but to be seen. 

Yet you must keep a strict guard upon yourself, 
or the odious monster will soon lose its terror by be- 
coming familiar to you. The modern history of our 
own times, furnishes as black a list of crimes, as can 
be paralleled in ancient times, even if we go back to 
Nero, Caligula, or Ccesar Borgia. Young as you 
are, the cruel war, into which we have been compel- 
led by the haughty tyrant of Britain and the bloody 
emissaries of his vengeancfe, may stamp upon your 
mind this certain truth, that the welfare and pros- 
perity of all countries, communities, and, I may add, 
individuals, depend upon their morals. That nation 
to which we were once united, as it has departed 
from justice, eluded and subverted the wise laws 
which formerly governed it, and suffered the worst 
of crimes to go unpunished, has lost its valor, wis- 
dom, and humanity, and, from being the dread and 
terror of Europe, has sunk into derision and infamy. 

But, to quit political subjects, I have been greatly 
anxious for your safety, having never heard of the 
frigate since she sailed, till, about a week ago, a 
New York paper informed, that she was taken and 
carried into Plymouth. I did not fully credit this 
report, though it gave me much uneasiness. I yes- 
terday heard that a French vessel was arrived at 



LETTERS. 125 

Portsmouth, which brought news of the safe arrival 
of the Boston ; but this wants confirmation. 1 hope 
it will not be long before I shall be assured of your 
safety. You must write me an account of your 
voyage, of your situation, and of every thing enter- 
taining you can recollect. 

Be assured I am most affectionately yours, 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

30 June, 1778. 

DEAREST OF FRIENDS, 

Shall I tell my dearest, that tears of joy filled my 
eyes, at the sight (this morning) of his well-known 
hand? — the first line which has blessed my sight, 
since his four months' absence, during which time I 
have never been able to learn a word from him or 
my dear son, till, about ten days ago, an English 
paper, taken in a prize and brought into Salem, con- 
tained an account, under the Paris news, of your ar- 
rival at the abode of Dr. Franklin ; and, last week, a 
cartel, from Halifax, brought Captain Welch, of the 
Boston^ who informed that he left you well the 11th of 
March, and that he had letters for me, but destroyed 
them when he was taken ; and this is all the informa- 
tion I have ever been able to obtain. Our enemies 
have told us the vessel was taken, and named the 
frigate which took her, and that she was carried into 



126 



LETTERS. 



Plymouth. I have lived a life of fear and anxiety 
ever since you left me. Not more than a week after 
your absence, the horrid story of Dr. Franklin's as- 
sassination was received from France, and sent by 
Mr. Purveyance, of Baltimore, to Congress and to 
Boston. Near two months, before that was contra- 
dicted. Then we could not hear a word from the 
Boston^ and most people gave her up, as taken or 
lost. Thus has my mind been agitated like a troub- 
led sea. 

You will easily conceive, how grateful to me your 
favor of April 25th, and those of our son, were to me 
and mine ; though I regret your short warning, and 
the little time you had to write, by which means I 
know not how you fared upon your voyage, what 
reception you have met with (not even from the la- 
dies, though you profess yourself an admirer of 
them), and a thousand circumstances which I wish 
to know, and which are always particularly interest- 
ing to near connexions. I must request you always 
to be minute, and to write me by every conveyance. 
Some, perhaps, which may appear unlikely to reach 
me, will be the first to arrive. I own I was mortified 
at so short a letter, but I quiet my heart with think- 
ing there are many more upon their passage to me. 
I have written several before this, and some of them 
very long. 

Now I know you are safe, I wish myself with 
you. Whenever you entertain such a wish, recollect 
that I would have willingly hazarded all dangers to 



LETTERS. 



1-27 



have been your companion ; but, as that was not 
permitted, you must console me in your absence, by 
a recital of all your adventures ; though, methinks, I 
would not have them in all respects too similar to 
those related of your venerable colleague, whose 
Mentor-like appearance, age, and philosophy must 
certainly lead the politico-scientific ladies of France 
to suppose they are embracing the god of wisdom 
in a human form ; but I, who own that I never yet 
" wished an angel, whom I loved a man," shall be full 
as content if those divine honors are omitted. The 
whole heart of my friend is in the bosom of his 
partner. More than half a score of years have so 
riveted it there, that the fabric which contains it 
must crumble into dust, ere the particles can be sep- 
arated. I can hear of the brilliant accomplishments 
of any of my sex with pleasure, and rejoice in that 
liberality of sentiment which acknowledges them. 
At the same time, I regret the trifling, narrow, con- 
tracted education of the females of my own coun- 
try. I have entertained a superior opinion of the 
accomplishments of the French ladies, ever since I 
read the letters of Dr. Shebbeare, who professes that 
he had rather take the opinion of an accomplished 
lady, in matters of polite writing, than the first wits 
of Italy ; and should think himself safer, with her 
approbation, than with that of a long list of literati ; 
and he gives this reason for it, that women have, in 
general, more delicate sensations than men ; what 
touches them, is for the most part true in nature, 



128 LETTERS. 

whereas men, warped by education, judge amiss 
from previous prejudice, and, referring all things to 
the mode of the ancients, condemn that by compari- 
son, where no true similitude ought to be expected. 

But, in this country, you need not be told how 
much female education is neglected, nor how fash- 
ionable it has been to ridicule female learning ; 
though I acknowledge it my happiness to be con- 
nected with a person of a more generous mind and 
liberal sentiments. I cannot forbear transcribing a 
few generous sentiments which 1 lately met with up- 
on this subject. 

" If women," says the wrher, " are to be esteem- 
ed our enemies, melhinks it is an ignoble cowardice, 
thus to disarm them, and not allow them the same 
weapons we use ourselves ; but, if they deserve the 
title of our friends, 't is an inhuman tyranny to debar 
them of the privileges of ingenuous education, which 
would also render their friendship so much the more 
delightful to themselves and us. Nature is seldom 
observed to be niggardly of her choicest gifts to the 
sex. Their senses are generally as quick as ours ; 
their reason as nervous, their judgment as mature 
and solid. To these natural perfections add but the 
advantages of acquired learning, what polite and 
charming creatures would they prove ; whilst their 
external beauty does the office of a crystal to the 
lamp, not shrouding, but disclosing, their brighter in- 
tellects. Nor need we fear to lose our empire over 
them by thus improving their native abilities ; since, 



LETTERS. 129 

where there is most learning, sense, and knowledge, 
there is always observed to be the most modesty 
and rectitude of manners." ^ 



The morning after I received your very short letter, 
I determined to devote the day to writing to my 
friend ; but I had only just breakfasted, when I had 
a visit from Monsieur Riviere, an officer on board 
the Langiiedoc, who speaks English well, the cap- 
tain of the Zara, and six or eight other officers, from 
on board another ship. The first gentleman dined 
with me, and spent the day, so that I had no oppor- 
tunity of writing that day. The gentlemen officers 
have made me several visits, and I have dined twice 
oh board, at very elegant entertainments. Count 
d'Estaing has been exceedingly polite to me. Soon 
after he arrived here, I received a message from 
him, requesting that I would meet him at Colonel 
Quincy's, as it was inconvenient leaving his ship for 
any long time. I waited upon him, and was very 
politely received. Upon parting, he requested that 

1 This letter probably failed in reaching its destination. The 
rougli copy only remains, which ends in an abrupt manner, with 
the quotation as above. 

2 This is taken from a rough draft; the original letter, if it 
was ever sent, was probably captured by the enemy or sunk. It 
is without date, but the contents fix it in October, 1778. 

9 



130 LETTERS. 

the family would accompany me on board his ship 
and dine with him the next Thursday, with any 
friends we chose to bring ; and his barge should 
come for us. We went, according to the invitation, 
and were sumptuously entertained, with every deli- 
cacy that this country produces, and the addition of 
every foreign article that could render our feast 
splendid. Music and dancing for the young folks 
closed the day. 

The temperance of these gentlemen, the peacea- 
ble, quiet disposition both of officers and men, joined 
to many other virtues which they have exhibit- 
ed during their continuance with us, are sufficient 
to make Europeans, and Americans too, blush at 
their own degeneracy of manners. Not one officer 
has been seen the least disguised with liquor since 
their arrival. Most that I have seen, appear to be 
gentlemen of family and education. I have been 
the more desirous to take notice of them, as I cannot 
help saying, that they have been neglected in the 
town of Boston. Generals Heath and Hancock have 
done their part, but very few, if any, private families 
have any acquaintance with them. Perhaps I feel 
more anxious to have them distinguished, on account 
of the near and dear connexion I have among them. 
It would gratify me much, if I had it in my power, 
to entertain every officer in the fleet. 

In the very few lines I have received from you, 
not the least mention is made, that you have ever re- 
ceived a line from me. I have not been so parsimo- 



LETTEKS. 131 

nious as my friend, — perhaps I am not so prudent; 
but I cannot take my pen, with my heart overflow- 
ing, and not give utterance to some of the abun- 
dance which is in it. Could you, after a thousand 
fears and anxieties, long expectation, and painful 
suspense, be satisfied with my telling you, that I was 
well, that I wished you were with me, that my 
daughter sent her duty, that I had ordered some arti- 
cles for you, which I hoped would arrive, &c. &c. 
By Heaven, if you could, you have changed hearts 
with some frozen Laplander, or made a voyage to 
a region that has chilled every drop of your blood ; 
but I v/ill restrain a pen already, I fear, too rash, nor 
shall it tell you how much I have suffered from this 
appearance of — inattention. 

The articles sent by Captain Tucker have arrived 
safe, and will be of great service to me. Our mon- 
ey is very little better than blank paper. It takes 
forty dollars to purchase a barrel of cider; fifty 
pounds lawful for a hundred of sugar, and fifty dol- 
lars for a hundred of flour ; four dollars per day for 
a laborer, and find him, which will amount to four 
more. You will see, by bills drawn before the date 
of this, that I had taken the method which I was 
happy in finding you had directed me to. I shall 
draw for the rest as I find my situation requires. 
No article that can be named, foreign or domestic, 
but what costs more than double in hard money what 
it once sold for. In one letter I have given you an 
account of our local situation, and of every thing I 



132 LETTERS. 

thought you might wish to know. Four or five 
sheets of paper, written to you by the last mail, 
were destroyed when the vessel was taken. Dupli- 
cates are my aversion, though I believe I should set 
a value upon them, if I were to receive them from a 
certain friend ^ ; a friend who never was deficient in 
testifying his regard and affection to his 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Sunday Evening, 27 December, 1778. 

How lonely are my days? how solitary are my 
nights ? secluded from all society but my two little 
boys and my domestics. By the mountains of snow 
which surround me, I could almost fancy myself in 
Greenland. We have had four of the coldest days 
I ever knew, and they were followed by the severest 
snow-storm I ever remember. The wind, blowing 
like a hurricane for fifteen or twenty hours, rendered 
it impossible for man or beast to live abroad, and has 
blocked up the roads so that they are impassable. 
A week ago I parted with my daughter, at the re- 
quest of our Plymouth friends, to spend a month 
witli them ; so that I am solitary indeed. 

Can the best of friends recollect, that for fourteen 
years past I have not spent a whole winter alone. 

1 It is proper to remark here, that the inattention which called 
forth these complaints was only apparent, and caused by the cap- 
ture of nearly all the vessels which brought letters. 



LETTERS. 133 

Some part of the dismal season has heretofore been 
mitigated and softened by the social converse and 
participation of the friend of my youth. 

How insupportable the idea, that three thousand 
miles and the vast ocean now divide us! but divide 
only our persons, for the heart of my friend is in the 
bosom of his partner. More than half a score of 
years has so riveted it there, that the fabric which 
contains it must crumble into dust ere the particles 
can be separated ; for 

'' in one fate, our hearts, our fortunes, 
And our beings blend." 

I cannot describe to you how much I was affected 
the other day with a Scotch song, which was sung 
to me by a young lady in order to divert a melan- 
choly hour ; but it had quite a different effect, and 
the native simplicity of it had all the power of a well- 
wrought tragedy. When I could conquer my sensi- 
bility I begged the song, and Master Charles has 
learned it, and consoles his mamma by singing it to 
her. I will enclose it to you. It has beauties in it 
to me, which an indifferent person would not feel 
perhaps. 

" His very foot has music in 't, 
As he comes up the stairs." 

How oft has my heart danced to the sound of that 
music ? 

" And shall I see his face again ? 
And shall I hear him speak ? " 



134 LETTERS. 

Gracious Heaven ! hear and answer my daily pe- 
tition, by banishing all my grief. 

I am sometimes quite discouraged from writing. 
So many vessels are taken, that there is little chance 
of a letter's reaching your hands. That I meet with 
so few returns, is a circumstance that lies heavy at 
my heart. If this finds its way to you, it will go by 
the Alliance. By her I have written before. She 
has not yet sailed, and I love to amuse myself with 
my pen, and pour out some of the tender sentiments 
of a heart overflowing with affection, not for the eye 
of a cruel enemy, who, no doubt, would ridicule ev- 
ery humane and social sentiment, long ago grown 
callous to the finer sensibilities, but for the sympa- 
thetic heart that beats in unison with 

Portia's. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

20 March, 1779. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

Your favor of December 9th, came to hand this 
evening from Philadelphia. By the same post I re- 
ceived a letter from Mr. Lovell, transcribing some 
passages from one of the same date to him, and the 
only one, he says, which he has received since your 
absence, and his pocket book proves, that he has 
written .eighteen different times ; yet possibly you 
may have received as few from him. The watery 
world alone can boast of large packets received ; — a 



LETTERS. 135 

discouraging thought when I take my pen. Yet I 
will not be discouraged. I will persist in writing, 
thouo-h but one in ten should reach you. I have 
been innpatient for an opportunity, none having of- 
fered since January, when the Alliance sailed, which, 
my presaging mind assures me, will arrive safe in 
France, and I hope will return as safely. 

Accept my thanks for the care you take of me, in 
so kindly providing for me the articles you mention. 
Should they arrive safe, they will be a great assist- 
ance to me. The safest way, you tell me, of sup- 
plying my wants, is by drafts; but I cannot get h^rd 
money for bills. You had as good tell me to pro- 
cure diamonds for them ; and, when bills will fetch 
but five for one, hard money will exchange ten, 
which I think is very provoking ; and I must give at 
the rate of ten, and sometimes twenty, for one, for 
every article I purchase. I blush whilst I give you 
a price current ; — all butcher's meat from a dollar to 
eight shillings per pound ; corn twenty-five dollars, 
rye thirty, per bushel ; flour fifty pounds per hun- 
dred ; potatoes ten dollars per bushel ; butter twelve 
shillings a pound, cheese eight ; sugar twelve shil. 
lings a pound ; molasses twelve dollars per gallon ; 
labor six and eight dollars a day ; a common cow, 
from sixty to seventy pounds; and all English goods 
in proportion. This is our present situation. It is a 
risk to send me any thing across the water, I know ; 
.yet, if one in three arrives, I should be a gainer. I 
have studied, and do study, every method of economy 



136 LETTERS. 

in my power ; otherwise a mint of money would not 
support a family. I could not board our two sons under 
forty dollars per week apiece at a school. I there- 
fore thought it most prudent to request Mr. Thaxter 
to look after them, giving him his board and the use 
of the office, which he readily accepted, and, having 
passed the winter with me, will continue through the 
summer, as I see no probability of the times speedily 
growing better. 

We have had much talk of peace through the 
mediation of Spain, and great news from Spain, and 
a thousand reports, as various as the persons who 
tell them ; yet I believe slowly, and rely more upon 
the information of my friend, than on all the whole 
legion of stories which rise with the sun, and set as 
soon. Respecting Georgia,^ other friends have writ- 
ten you. I shall add nothing of my own, but that 
I believe it will finally be a fortunate event to us. 

Our vessels have been fortunate in making prizes, 
though many were taken in the fall of the year. We 
have been greatly distressed for [want of] grain. I 
scarcely know the looks or taste of biscuit or flour 
for this four months ; yet thousands have been much 
worse off, having no grain of any sort. 

The great commotion raised here by Mr. Deane 
has sunk into contempt for his character ; and it 
would be better for him to leave a country, which is 
now supposed to have been injured by him. His 

1 The descent of the British, under General Prevost and Colonel 
Campbell, upon Georgia. 



LETTERS. 137 

friends are silent, not knowing how to extricate him. 
It would he happy for him, if he had the art iiimself. 
He most certainly had art enough, in the beginning, 
to blow up a flame, and to set the whole continent in 
agitation. 

23 April. 

More than a month has passed away since writing 
the above, and no opportunity has yet offered of con- 
veying you a line ; next to the pain of not receiving, 
is that of not being able to send a token of remem- 
brance and affection. (You must excuse my not copy- 
ing, as paper is ten dollars per quire.) Last week a 
packet arrived from Brest, with despatches for Con- 
gress, but no private letters. I was disappointed, but 
did not complain. You would have written, I know, 
had you supposed she was coming to Boston. By 
her we heard of the safe arrival of the Alliance in 
France, which gave me much pleasure. May she 
have as safe a return to us again. Last week, ar- 
rived here the frigate Warren^ after a successful 
cruise. She had been out about six weeks, in com- 
pany with the Queen of France, and the Ranger, 
Captain Jones. They fell in with, and captured, a 
fleet, bound from New York to Georgia, consisting 
of ship Jason, twenty guns, and one hundred and 
fifty men ; ship Maria, sixteen guns, eighty-four 
men, having on board eighteen hundred barrels of 
flour ; privateer schooner Hibernian, eight guns, 
and forty-five men ; brigs Patriot, Pririce Frederick, 
Bachelor John, and schooner Chance ; all of which 



138 LETTERS. 

are safe arrived, to the universal joy and satisfaction 
of every well-wisher of his country. The officers 
who were captured, acknowledge that this loss will 
be severely felt by the enemy, and it is hoped that 
it will give General Lincoln important advantages 
over him in Georgia. 

Respecting domestic affairs, I shall do tolerably, 
whilst my credit is well supported abroad ; and my 
demands there shall be as small as possible, consid- 
ering the state of things here ; but I cannot purchase 
a bushel of grain under three hard dollars, though 
the scarcity of that article makes it dearer than other 
things. 

My pen is really so bad that I cannot add any fur- 
ther, than that I am wholly 

Yours. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

8 June, 1779. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

Six months have already elapsed since I heard a 
syllable from you or my dear son, and five, since I 
have had one single opportunity of conveying a line to 
you. Letters of various dates have lain months at 
the Navy Board, and a packet and frigate, both ready 
to sail at an hour's warning, have been months wait- 
ing the orders of Congress. They no doubt have 
their reasons, or ought to have, for detaining them. 
I must patiently wait their motions, however pain- 



LETTERS. 139 

fill it is ; and that it is so, your own feelings will 
testify. Yet I know not but you are less a sufferer 
than you would be to hear from us, to know our dis- 
tresses, and yet be unable to relieve them. The 
universal cry for bread, to a humane heart, is painful 
beyond description, and the great price demanded 
and given for it verifies that pathetic passage of sa- 
cred writ, " All that a man hath, will he give for his 
life." Yet He who miraculously fed a multitude 
with five loaves and two fishes, has graciously inter- 
posed in our favor, and delivered many of the ene- 
my's supplies into our hands, so that our distresses 
have been mitigated. I have been able as yet to 
supply my own family sparingly, but at a price that 
would astonish you. Corn is sold at four dollars, 
hard money, per bushel, which is equal to eighty at 
the rate of exchange. 

Labor is at eight dollars per day, and in three 
weeks it will be at twelve, 't is probable, or it will be 
more stable than any thing else. Goods of all kinds 
are at such a price that I hardly dare mention it. 
Linens are sold at twenty dollars per yard ; the most 
ordinary sort of calicoes at thirty and forty ; broad- 
cloths at forty pounds per yard ; West India goods full 
as high ; molasses at twenty dollars per gallon ; sugar 
four dollars per pound ; bohea tea at forty dollars ; 
and our own produce in proportion. Butcher's meat 
at six and eight shillings per pound ; board at fifty 
and sixty dollars per week ; rates high. That, I sup- 
pose, you will rejoice at ; so would I, did it remedy 



140 LETTERS. 

the evil. I pay five liundred dollars, and a new 
continental rate has just appeared, my proportion of 
which will be two hundred more. I have come to 
this determination, to sell no more bills, unless I can 
procure hard money for them, although I shall be 
obhged to allow a discount. If I sell for paper, I 
throw away more than half, so rapid is the depre- 
ciation ; nor do I know that it will be received long. 
I sold a bill to Blodget at five for one, which was 
looked upon as high at that time. The week after I 
received it, two emissions were taken out of circula- 
tion, and the greater part of what I had, proved to be 
of that sort ; so that those, to whom I was indebted, 
are obliged to wait, and before it becomes due, or is 
exchanged, it will be good for — as much as it will 
fetch, which will be nothing, if it goes on as it has 
done for this three months past. I will not tire your 
patience any longer. I have not drawn any further 
upon you. I mean to wait the return of the Alli- 
ance^ which with longing eyes I look for. God grant 
it may bring me comfortable tidings from my dear, 
dear friend, whose welfare is so essential to my hap- 
piness, that it is entwined around my heart, and can- 
not be impaired or separated from it without rend- 
ing it asunder. 

In contemplation of my situation, I am sometimes 
thrown into an aojony of distress. Distance, dangers, 
and O ! I cannot name all the fears which sometimes 
oppress me, and harrow up my soul. Yet must the 
common lot of man one day take place, whether we 



LETTERS. 141 

dwell ill our own native land, or arc far distant from 
it. That we rest under the shadow of the Almighty 
is the consolation to which I resort, and find that 
comfort which the world cannot give. II He sees 
best to give me back my friend, or to preserve my 
life to him, it will be so. 

Our worthy friend, Dr. Winthrop, is numbered 
with the great congregation, to the inexpressible loss 
of Harvard College. 

" Let no weak drop 
Be shed for him. The virgin, in her bloom 
Cut off, the joyous youth, and darling child, 
These are the tombs that claim the tender tear, 
And elegiac song. But Winthrop calls 
For other notes of gratulation high, 
That now he wanders through those endless worlds 
He here so well descried, and wondering talks, 
And hymns their Author with his glad compeers." 

The testimony he gave with his dying breath, in 
favor of revealed religion, does honor to his memo- 
ry, and will endear it to every lover of virtue. I 
know not who will be found worthy to succeed him. 

Congress have not yet made any appointment of 
you to any other court. There appears a dilatori- 
ness, an indecision, in their proceedings. I have in 
Mr. Lovell an attentive friend, who kindly informs me 
of every thing which passes relative to you and your 
situation, and gives me extracts of your letters both 
to himself and others. I know you will be unhappy 
whenever it is not in your power to serve your coun- 
try, and wish yourself at home, where at least you 



142 LETTERS. 

might serve your family. I cannot say that I think 
our affairs go very well here. Our currency seems 
to be the source of all our evils. We cannot fill up 
our Continental army by means of it. No bounty 
will prevail with them. What can be done with it ? 
It will sink in less than a year. The advantage the 
enemy daily gains over us is owing to this. Most 
truly did you prophesy, when you said that they 
would do all the mischief in their power with the 
forces they had here. 

My tenderest regards ever attend you in all places 
and situations. 

Ever, ever yours. 



DEAREST OF FRIENDS, 

My habitation, how disconsolate it looks ! my table, I 
sit down to it, but cannot swallow my food ! O, why 
was I born with so much sensibility, and why, pos- 
sessing it, have I so often been called to struggle 
with it ? I wish to see you again. Were I sure you 
would not be gone, I could not withstand the tempta- 
tion of coming to town, though my heart would suf- 
fer over again the cruel torture of separation. 

1 Mr. Adams had returned from France in August, but was re- 
quired by Congress again to embark at this time, with powers to 
negotiate a peace with Great Britain. He took with him, upon 
this occasion, his two eldest sons. 



LETTERS. 143 

What a cordial to my dejected spirits were the 
few lines last night received ! And does your heart 
forebode that we shall again be happy ? My hopes 
and fears rise alternately. I cannot resign more 
than I do, unless life itself were called for. My dear 
sons, I cannot think of them without a tear. Little 
do they know the feelings of a mother's heart. May 
they be good and useful as their father ! Then will 
they, in some measure, reward the anxiety of a moth- 
er. My tenderest love to them. Remember me 
also to Mr. Thaxter, whose civilities and kindness I 
shall miss. 

God Almighty bless and protect my dearest friend, 
and, in his own time, restore him to the affectionate 
bosom of 

Portia. 

l-i November, 1779. 



TO JOHN QU;NCY ADAMS. 

12 January, 1780. 

MY DEAR SON, 

I HOPE you have had no occasion, either from ene- 
mies or the dangers of the sea, to repent your second 
voyage to France. If I had thought your reluctance 
arose from proper deliberation, or that you were ca-^ 
pable of judging what was most for your own bene- 
fit, I should not have urged you to accompany your 
father and brother when you appeared so averse to 
the voyage. 



144 LETTERS. 

You, however, readily submitted to my advice, 
and, I hope, will never have occasion yourself, nor 
give me reason, to lament it. Your knowledge of 
the language must give you greater advantages now 
than you could possibly have reaped whilst ignorant 
of it; and, as you increase in years, you will find 
your understanding opening and daily improving. 

Some author, that I have met with, compares a 
judicious traveller to a river, that increases its stream 
the further it flows from its source ; or to certain 
springs, which, running through rich veins of mine- 
rals, improve their qualities as they pass along. It 
will be expected of you, my son, that, as you are 
favored with superior advantages under the instruc- 
tive eye of a tender parent, your improvement should 
bear some proportion to your advantages. Nothing 
is wanting with you but attention, diligence, and 
steady application. Nature has not been deficient. 

These are times in which a genius would wish to 
live. It is not in the still calm of life, or the repose 
of a pacific station, that great characters are formed. 
Would Cicero have shone so distinguished an orator 
if he had not been roused, kindled, and inflamed by 
the tyranny of Catiline, Verres, and Mark Antony ? 
The habits of a vigorous mind are formed in con- 
tending with difficulties. All history will convince 
you of this, and that wisdom and penetration are the 
fruit of experience, not the lessons of retirement and 
leisure. Great necessities call out great virtues. 
When a mind is raised and animated by scenes that 



LETTERS. 145 

engage the heart, then those qualities, which would 
otherwise lie dormant, wake into life and form the 
character of the hero and the statesman. War, tyran- 
ny, and desolation are the scourges of the Almighty, 
and ought no doubt to be deprecated. Yet it is your 
lot, my son, to be an eyewitness of these calamities 
in your own native land, and, at the same time, to 
owe your existence among a people who have made 
a glorious defence of their invaded liberties, and 
who, aided by a generous and powerful ally, with 
the blessing of Heaven, will transmit this inheritance 
to ages yet unborn. 

Nor ought it to be one of the least of your incite- 
ments towards exerting every power and faculty of 
your mind, that you have a parent who has taken so 
large and active a share in this contest, and dis- 
charged the trust reposed in him with so much satis- 
faction as to be honored with the important embassy 
which at present calls him abroad. 

The strict and inviolable regard you have ever paid 
to truth, gives me pleasing hopes that you will not 
swerve from her dictates, but add justice, fortitude, 
and every manly virtue which can adorn a good 
citizen, do honor to your country, and render your 
parents supremely happy, particularly your ever 
affectionate mother, 

A. A. 



10 



146 LETTEES. 



TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

20 March, 1780. 

MY DEAR SON, 

Your letter, last evening received from Bilboa, re- 
lieved me from much anxiety ; for, having a day or 
two before received letters from your papa, Mr. 
Thaxter,^ and brother, in which packet I found none 
from you, nor any mention made of you, my mind, 
ever fruitful in conjectures, was instantly alarmed. 
I feared you were sick, unable to write, and your 
papa, unwilling to give me uneasiness, had conceal- 
ed it from me ; and this apprehension was confirmed 
by every person's omitting to say how long they 
should continue in Bilboa. 

Your father's letters came to Salem, yours to 
Newburyport, and soon gave ease to my anxiety, at 
the same time that it excited gratitude and thankful- 
ness to Heaven, for the preservation you all experi- 
enced in the imminent dangers which threatened 
you. You express in both your letters a degree of 
thankfulness. I hope it amounts to more than words, 
and that you will never be insensible to the particu- 
lar preservation you have experienced in both your 
voyages. You have seen how inadequate the aid of 
man would have been, if the winds and the seas had 

* This gentleman, who was a student at law in the office of 
Mr. Adams, at the commencement of the troubles, accompanied 
him in the capacity of private secretary on this mission. 



LETTERS. 147 

not been under the particular government of that 
Being, who " stretched out the heavens as a span," 
who " holdeth the ocean in the hollow of his hand," 
and " rideth upon the wings of the wind." 

If you have a due sense of your preservation, your 
next consideration will be, for what purpose you are 
continued in life. It is not to rove from clime to 
clime, to gratify an idle curiosity ; but every new 
mercy you receive is a new debt upon you, a new 
obligation to a diligent discharge of the various rela- 
tions in which you stand connected ; in the first place, 
to your great Preserver ; in the next, to society in 
general ; in particular, to your country, to your pa- 
rents, and to yourself. 

The only sure and permanent foundation of virtue 
is religion. Let this important truth be engraven 
upon your heart. And also, that the foundation 
of religion is the belief of the one only God, and 
a just sense of his attributes, as a being infinitely 
wise, just, and good, to whom you owe the highest 
reverence, gratitude, and adoration ; who superin- 
tends and governs all nature, even to clothing the 
lilies of the field, and hearing the young ravens when 
they cry ; but more particularly regards man, whom 
he created after his own image, and breathed into 
him an immortal spirit, capable of a happiness be- 
yond the grave ; for the attainment of which he is 
bound to the performance of certain duties, which all 
tend to the happiness and welfare of society, and are 
comprised in one short sentence, expressive of uni- 



148 LETTERS. 

versal benevolence, " Thou shalt love thy neighbour 
as thyself." This is elegantly defined by Mr. Pope, 
in his " Essay on Man." 

'' Remember, man, the universal cause 
Acts not by partial, but by general laws, 
And makes what happiness we justly call, 
Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 
There's not a blessing individuals find, 
But some way leans and hearkens to the kind." 

Thus has the Supreme Being made the good will 
of man towards his fellow-creatures an evidence of 
his regard to Him, and for this purpose has constitut- 
ed him a dependent being and made his happiness 
to consist in society. Man early discovered this pro- 
pensity of his nature, and found 

" Eden was tasteless till an Eve was there." 

Justice, humanity, and benevolence are the duties 
you owe to society in general. To your country 
the same duties are incumbent upon you, with the 
additional obligation of sacrificing ease, pleasure 
wealth, and life itself for its defence and security 
To your parents you owe love, reverence, and obe 
dience to all just and equitable commands. To your 
self, — here, indeed, is a wide field to expatiate upon 
To become what you ought to be, and what a fond 
mother wishes to see you, attend to some precepts 
and instructions from the pen of one, who can have 
no motive but your welfare and happiness, and who 
wishes in this way to supply to you the personal 
watchfulness and care, which a separation from you 



LETTERS. 149 

deprived you of at a period of life, when habits are 
easiest acquired and fixed ; and, though the advice 
may not be new, yet suffer it to obtain a place in your 
memory, for occasions may offer, and perhaps some 
concurring circumstances unite, to give it weight and 
force. 

Suffer me to recommend to you one of the most 
useful lessons of life, the knowledge and study of 
yourself. There you run the greatest hazard of 
being deceived. Self-love and partiality cast a mist 
before the eyes, and there is no knowledge so hard 
to be acquired, nor of more benefit when once 
thoroughly understood. Ungoverned passions have 
aptly been compared to the boisterous ocean, which 
is known to produce the most terrible effects. " Pas- 
sions are the elements of life," but elements which 
are subject to the control of reason. Whoevei'will 
candidly examine themselves, will find some degree 
of passion, peevishness, or obstinacy in their natural 
tempers. You will seldom find these disagreeable 
ingredients all united in one ; but the uncontrolled in- 
dulgence of either is sufficient to render the posses- 
sor unhappy in himself, and disagreeable to all who 
are so unhappy as to be witnesses of it, or suffer 
from its effects. 

You, my dear son, are formed with a constitution 
feelingly alive ; your passions are strong and impetu- 
ous ; and, though I have sometimes seen them hurry 
you into excesses, yet with pleasure I have ob- 
served a frankness and generosity accompany your 



150 LETTERS. 

efforts to govern and subdue them. Few persons 
are so subject to passion, but that they can com- 
mand themselves, when they have a motive suffi- 
ciently strong ; and those who are most apt to trans- 
gress will restrain themselves through respect and 
reverence to superiors, and even, where they wish 
to recommend themselves, to their equals. The due 
government of the passions, has been considered in 
all ages as a most valuable acquisition. Hence an 
inspired writer observes, " He that is slow to anger, 
is better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his 
spirit, than he that taketh a city." This passion, 
cooperating with power, and unrestrained by reason, 
has produced the subversion of cities, the desola- 
tion of countries, the massacre of nations, and filled 
the world with injustice and oppression. Behold 
your own country, your native land, suffering from 
the effects of lawless power and malignant passions, 
and learn betimes, from your own observation and 
experience, to govern and control yourself. Having 
once obtained this self-government, you will find a 
foundation laid for happiness to yourself and use- 
fulness to mankind. " Virtue alone is happiness 
below ; " and consists in cultivating and improving 
every good inclination, and in checking and sub- 
duing every propensity to evil. I have been particu- 
lar upon the passion of anger, as it is generally the 
most predominant passion at your age, the soonest 
excited, and the least pains are taken to subdue it ; 

— " what composes man, caa man destroy." 



LETTERS. 151 

I do not mean, however, to have you insensible 
to real injuries. He who will not turn when he is 
trodden upon is deficient in point of spirit ; yet, if 
you can preserve good breeding and decency of 
manners, you will have an advantage over the ag- 
gressor, and will maintain a dignity of character, 
which will always insure you respect, even from the 
offender. 

I will not overburden your mind at this time. I 
mean to pursue the subject of self-knowledge in 
some future letter, and give you my sentiments 
upon your future conduct in life, when I feel dis- 
posed to resume my pen. 

In the mean time, be assured, no one is more 
sincerely interested in your happiness, than your 
ever affectionate mother, 

A. A. 

Do not expose my letters. I would copy, but 
hate it. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Sunday Evening, 16 July, 1780. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

I HAD just returned to my chamber, and taken up my 
pen to congratulate you upon the arrival of the fleet 
of our allies at Newport, when I was called down to 
receive the most agreeable of presents, — letters 



152 LETTERS. 

from my dearest friend. One bearing date March 
28th, by Mr. Izard, and one of May 3d, taken out of 
the post-office ; but to what port they arrived first I 
know not. They could not be those by the fleet, as 
in these you make mention of letters, which I have 
not yet received, nor by the Alliance,, since Mr. 
Williams sailed twenty-five days after the fleet, and 
she was then in France. A pity, I think, that she 
should stay there when here we are almost destitute. 
Our navy has been unfortunate indeed. I am sorry 
to find, that only a few lines have reached you from 
me. I have written by way of Spain, Holland, and 
Sweden, but not one single direct conveyance have 
I had to France since you left me. I determine to 
open a communication by way of Gardoqui, and 
wish you would make use of the same conveyance. 

What shall I say of our political afl^airs } Shall I 
exclaim at measures now impossible to remedy } 
No. I will hope all from the generous aid of our 
allies, in concert with our own exertions. I am not 
suddenly elated or depressed. I know America ca- 
pable of any thing she undertakes with spirit and 
vigor. " Brave in distress, serene in conquest, drow- 
sy when at rest," is her true characteristic. Yet I 
deprecate a failure in our present effort. The efforts 
are great, and we give, this campaign, more than half 
our property to defend the other. He who tarries 
from the field cannot possibly earn sufficient at home 
to reward him who takes it. Yet, should Heaven 
bless our endeavours, and crown this year with the 



LETTERS. 153 

blessings of peace, no exertion will be thought too 
great, no price of property too dear. My whole soul 
is absorbed in the idea. The honor of my dear- 
est friend, the welfare and happiness of this wide- 
extended country, ages yet unborn, depend for their 
happiness and security upon the able and skilful, the 
honest and upright, discharge of the important trust 
committed to him. It would not become me to write 
the full flow of my heart upon this occasion. My 
constant petition for him is, that he may so discharge 
the trust reposed in him as to merit the approving 
eye of Heaven, and peace, liberty, and safety crown 
his latest years in his own native land. 

The Marchioness,^ at the Abbe Raynal's, is not the 
only lady who joins an approving voice to that of 
her country, though at the expense of her present 
domestic happiness. It is easier to admire virtue 
than to practise it ; especially the great virtue of 
self-denial. I find but few sympathizing souls. Why 
should I look for them ? since few have any souls, 
but of the sensitive kind. That nearest allied to my 
own they have taken from me, and tell me honor 
and fame are a compensation. 

" Fame, wealth, or honor, — what are ye to love ? " 

But hushed be my pen. Let me cast my eye upon 
the letters before me. What is the example .'' I 
follow it in silence. 

1 Doubtless the Marchioness Lafayette. 



154 LETTERS. 

Present my compliments to Mr. Dana.^ Tell him 
I have called upon his lady, and we enjoyed an 
afternoon of sweet communion. I find she would 
not be averse to taking a voyage, should he be con- 
tinued abroad. She groans most bitterly, and is 
irreconcilable to his absence. I am a mere philoso- 
pher to her. I am inured^ but not hardened, to the 
painful portion. Shall I live to see it otherwise ? 

Your letters are always valuable to me, but more 
particularly so when they close with an affectionate 
assurance of regard, which, though I do not doubt, 
is never repeated without exciting the tenderest sen- 
timents ; and never omitted without pain to the af- 
fectionate bosom of your 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADABIS. 

15 October, 1780. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

I CLOSED a long letter to you only two days ago, but 
as no opportunity is omitted by me, I embrace this, 
as Colonel Fleury was kind enough to write me on 
purpose, from Newport, to inform me of it, and to 
promise a careful attention to it. Yet I feel doubt- 
ful of its safety. The enemy seems to be collect- 

1 Francis Dana was appointed by Congress secretary to Mr. 
Adams upon this mission, and accompanied him in his voyage. 
He was afterwards sent to Russia as Minister ; upon which occa- 
sion Mr. Adams's eldest son went with him to St. Petersburgh. 



LETTERS. 199 

ing a prodigious force into these seas, and is bent 
upon the destruction of our allies. We are not a 
little anxious for them, and cannot but wonder, that 
they are not yet reinforced. Graves's fleet, Arbuth- 
not s, and Rodney's, all here ; with such a superiori- 
ty, can it be matter of surprise, if M. de Temay 
should fall asacriiice ? My own mind, I own, is full of 
apprehension ; yet I trust we shall not be delivered 
over to the vengeance of a nation more wicked and 
perverse than our own. We daily experience the 
correcting and the defending arm. The enclosed 
papers will give you the particulars of an infernal 
plot, and the providential discovery of it. For, 
however the belief of a particular Providence may 
be exploded by the modern wits, and the infidelity 
of too many of the rising generation deride the idea, 
yet the virtuous mind will look up and acknowledge 
the great First Cause, without whose notice not 
even a sparrow falls to the ground. 

I am anxious to hear trom you. Your last letter, 
which I have received, was dated June the ITth. 
I have written you repeatedly, that my trunk was 
not put on board the Alliance : that poor vessel was 
the sport of more than winds and waves. 1 he :on- 
duct with regard to her is considered as very e3ctraor- 
dinary. She came to Boston, as you have no doubt 
heard. Landais is suspended. The man must be 
new made before he can be entitled to command. I 
hope Captain Sampson arrived safe. He carried the 
resolve of Congress, which you wanted. 



156 LETTERS. 

You tell me to send you prices current. I will 
aim at it. Corn is now thirty pounds, rye twenty- 
seven, per bushel. Flour from a hundred and forty 
to a hundred and thirty per hundred. Beef, eight 
dollars per pound ; mutton, nine ; lamb, six, seven 
and eight. Butter twelve dollars per pound ; cheese 
ten. Sheep's wool thirty dollars per pound ; flax 
twenty. West India articles ; — sugar, from a hund 
red and seventy to two hundred pounds per hundred 
molasses, forty-eight dollars per gallon ; tea, nine 
ty ; coffee, twelve ; cotton wool, thirty per pound 
Exchange from seventy to seventy-five for hard mon 
ey. Bills at fifty. Money scarce ; plenty of goods 
enormous taxes. Our State affairs are thus. Han- 
cock will be Governor, by a very great majority ; the 
Senate will have to choose the Lieutenant-Governor. 
Our constitution is read with great admiration in New 
York, and pronounced by the Royal Governor the 
best republican form he ever saw, but with sincere 
hopes that it might not be accepted. How will it 
be administered ? is now the important question. 

The report of the day is, that three thousand 
troops are arrived at New York from England. 
Adieu ! Most affectionately yours. 



LETTERS. 157 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

28 January, 1781. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

Last evening General Lincoln called here, introduc- 
ing to me a gentleman, by the name of Colonel Lau- 
rens, the son, as I suppose, of your much esteemed 
friend, the late President of Congress ; who informed 
me, that he expected to sail for France in a few 
days, and would take despatches from me. Although 
I closed letters to you, by way of Holland, a few 
days ago, I would not omit so good an opportunity 
as the present. 'T is a long time since the date of 
your last letters, the 25th of September. I wait with 
much anxiety, listening to the sound of every gun, 
but none announce the arrival of the Fame, from 
Holland, which we greatly fear is taken or lost, or 
the Mars, from France. Colonel Laurens is ena- 
bled, I suppose, to give you every kind of intelU- 
gence respecting the army, which you may wish to 
learn. 

I have the pleasure to inform you, that a repeal of 
the obnoxious tender act has passed the House and 
Senate. The Governor, as has been heretofore pre- 
dicted, when any thing not quite popular is in agita- 
tion, has the gout and is confined to his bed. A 
false weight and a false balance are an abomination, 
and in that light this tender act must be viewed by 
every impartial person. Who, but an idiot, would 



158 LETTERS. 

believe that forty were equal to seventy-five ? But the 
repeal gives us reason to hope, that justice and righ- 
teousness will again exalt our nation ; that public 
faith will be restored ; that individuals will lend to 
the public ; and that the heavy taxes, which now dis- 
tress all orders, will be lessened. 

A late committee, who have been sitting upon 
ways and means for raising money, tell us, that a 
tax for two years more, equal to what we have paid 
in the last, would clear this State of debt. You may 
judge of the weight of them ; yet our State taxes are 
but as a grain of mustard seed, when compared with 
our town taxes. Clinton, I hear, has sent out a procla- 
mation upon Germain's plan, inviting the people to 
make a separate peace, which will only be a new 
proof of the ignorance and folly of our enemies, 
without making a single proselyte. Even the revolt- 
ed Pennsylvania troops gave up to justice the spies, 
whom Clinton sent to them, offering them clothing 
and pay ; letting him know, that it was justice from 
their State, not favors from their enemies, which 
they wanted. 

It is reported, that Arnold, with a body of troops, 
is gone to Virginia, where it is hoped he and his 
Myrmidons will meet their fate. Had Clinton been 
a generous enemy, or known human nature, he 
would, like Aurelian, upon a like occasion, have 
given up the traitor to the hands of justice ; knowing 
that it was in vain to expect fidelity in a man who 
had betrayed his own country, which, from his de- 



LETTERS. 159 

fection, may learn to place a higher value upon in- 
tegrity and virtue than upon a savage ferocity, so 
often mistaken for courage. He who, as an individ- 
ual, is cruel, unjust, and immoral, will noi be likely 
to possess the virtues necessary in a general or 
statesman. Yet, in our infant country, infidelity and 
debauchery are so fashionably prevalent, that less 
attention is paid to the characters of those who fill 
important oflices, than a love of virtue and zeal for 
public liberty can warrant ; which, we are told by 
wise legislators of old, are the surest preservatives 
of public happiness. 

You observe in a late letter, that your absence 
from your native State will deprive you of an oppor- 
tunity of being a man of importance in it. I hope 
you are doing your country more extensive service 
abroad, than you could have done, had you been 
confined to one State only ; and, whilst you continue 
in the same estimation among your fellow-citizens 
in which you are now held, you will not fail of being 
of importance to them at home or abroad. 

Heaven preserve the life and health of my dear 
absent friend, and, in its own time, return him to his 
country and to the arms of his ever affectionate 

Portia. 



160 LETTERS. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

25 May, 1781. 
In this beautiful month, when Nature wears her 
gayest garb, and animal and vegetable life is dif- 
fused on every side ; when the cheerful hand of in- 
dustry is laying a foundation for a plentiful harvest, 
who can forbear to rejoice in the season, or refrain 
from looking " through nature up to nature's God ; " 

" To feel the present Deity, and taste 
The joy of God, to see a happy world." 

While my heart expands, it, sighing, seeks its associ- 
ate, and joins its first parent in that beautiful descrip- 
tion of Milton. 

" Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, 
Witli charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, 
When first on this delightful land he spreads 
His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, 
Glistering with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth 
After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on 
Of grateful evening mildj then silent night 
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, 
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train: 
But neither breath of morn when she ascends 
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun 
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, 
Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers, 
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night 
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, 
Or glittering starlight, icithout thee is sweet." 

This passage has double charms for me, painted 
by the hand of truth ; and for the same reason, that 



LETTERS. 161 

a dear friend of mine, after having viewed a pro- 
fusion of beautiful pictures, pronounced that which 
represented the parting of Hector and Andromache 
to be worth them all. The journal in which this is 
mentioned does not add any reason why it was so ; 
but Portia felt its full force, and paid a grateful tear 
to the acknowledgment. 

We are anxiously waiting for inteUigence from 
abroad. We shall have in the field a more respect- 
able army, than has appeared there since the com- 
mencement of the war; and all raised for three 
years or during the war, most of them men who 
have served before. The towns have exerted them- 
selves upon this occasion with a spirit becoming 
patriots. We wish for a naval force, superior to 
what we have yet had, to act in concert with our 
army. We have been flattered from day to day, 
yet none has arrived. The enemy exults in the 
delay, and is improving the time to ravage Caro- 
lina and Virginia. 

We hardly know what to expect from the United 
Provinces, because we are not fully informed of their 
disposition. Britain has struck a blow, by the cap- 
ture of Eustatia, sufficient to arouse and unite them 
against her, if there still exists that spirit of liberty, 
which shone so conspicuous in their ancestors, and 
which, under much greater difficulties, led their 
hardy forefathers to reject the tyranny of Philip. I 
wish your powers may extend to an alliance with 
them, and that you may be as successful against the 
11 



162 LETTERS. 

artifices of Britain, as a former ambassador^ was 
against those of another nation, when he negotiated 
a triple alliance in the course of five days, with an 
address which has ever done honor to his memory. 
If I was not so nearly connected, I should add, that 
there is no small similarity in the character of my 
friend and the gentleman, whose memoirs I have 
read with great pleasure. 

Our State affairs I will write you, if the vessel 
does not sail till after election. Our friend, Mr. 
Cranch, goes from here representative, by a unani- 
mous vote. Dr. Tufts, of Weymouth, is chosen 
senator. Our governor and lieutenant-governor, as 
at the beginning. Our poor old currency is breath- 
ing its last gasp. It received a most fatal wound 
from a collection of near the whole body's entering 
here from the southward ; having been informed, 
that it was treated here with more respect, and that 
it could purchase a solid and durable dress here for 
seventy-five paper dollars, but half the expense it 
must be at there, it travelled here with its whole 
train ; and, being much debauched in its manners, 
communicated the contagion all of a sudden, and is 
universally rejected. It has given us a great shock. 
Your ever affectionate 

Portia. 

I Sir William Temple. 



LETTERS. 163 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

9 December, 1781, 



MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

I HEAR the Alliance is again going to France, with 
the Marquis de la Fayette and the Count de Noailles. 
I will not envy the Marquis the pleasure of annually 
visiting his Aimily, considering the risk he runs in 
doing it ; besides, he deserves the good wishes of ev- 
ery American, and a large portion of the honors and 
applause of his own country. He returns with the 
additional merit of laurels won at Yorktovvn by the 
capture of a whole British army. America may 
boast, that she has accomplished what no power be- 
fore her ever did, contending with Britain, — captur- 
ed two of their celebrated generals, and each with 
an army of thousands of veteran troops to support 
them. This event, whilst it must fill Britain with 
despondency, will draw the Union already framed 
still closer and give us additional allies ; and, if prop- 
erly improved, will render a negotiation easier and 
more advantageous to America. 

But I cannot reflect much upon public affairs, un- 
til I have unburdened the load of my own heart. 
Where shall I begin my list of grievances? Not by 
accusations, but lamentations. My first is, that I do 
not hear from you ; a few lines only, dated in April 
and May, have come to hand for fifteen months. 
You do not mention receiving any from me except 



164 LETTERS. 

by Captain Casneau, though I wrote by Colonel 
Laurens, by Captain Brown, by Mr. Storer, Dexter, 
and many others ; to Bilboa by Trask, and several 
times by way of France. You will refer me to Gil- 
Ion, I suppose. Gillon has acted a base part, of 
which, no doubt, you are long ere now apprized. 
You had great reason to suppose, that he would 
reach America as soon or sooner than the merchant 
vessels, and placed much confidence in him by the 
treasure you permitted to go on board of him. Ah ! 
how great has my anxiety been. What have I not 
suffered since I heard my dear Charles was on board, 
and no intelligence to be procured of the vessel for 
four months after he sailed. Most people concluded, 
that she was foundered at sea, as she sailed before a 
violent storm. Only three weeks ago did I hear the 
contrary. My uncle despatched a messenger, the 
moment a vessel from Bilboa arrived with the happy 
tidings, that she was safe at Corunna ; that the pas- 
sengers had all left the ship in consequence of Gil- 
Ion's conduct, and were arrived at Bilboa. The 
vessel sailed the day that the passengers arrived at 
Bilboa, so that no letters came by Captain Lovett ; 
but a Dr. Sands reports, that he saw a child, who 
they told him was yours, and that he was well. This 
was a cordial to my dejected spirits. I know not 
what to wish for. Should he attempt to come at 
this season upon the coast, it has more horrors than 
I have fortitude. I am still distressed ; I must resign 
him to the kind, protecting hand of that Being, who 



LETTERS. 165 

halli hitherto preserved him, and submit to whatever 
dispensation is allotted me. 

What is the matter with Mr. Thaxter. Has he 
forgotten all his American friends, that, out of four 
vessels which have arrived, not a line is to be found 
on board of one of them from him. I could quarrel 
with the climate, but surely, if it is subject to the 
ague, there is a fever fit as well as a cold one. Mr. 
Guild tells me, he was charged with letters, but left 
them, with his other things, on board the frigate. 
She gave him the slip and he stepped on board of 
Captain Brown's ship, and happily %rrived safe. 
From him I have learned many things respecting my 
dear connexions ; but still I long for that free com- 
munication, which I see but little prospect of obtain- 
ing. Let me again entreat you to write by way of 
Guardoqui. Bilboa is as safe a conveyance as I 
know of. Ah, my dear John ! where are you ? In 
so remote a part of the globe, that I fear I shall not 
hear a syllable from you. Pray write me all the in- 
telligence you get from him ; send me his letters to 
you. Do you know I have not had a line from him 
for a year and a half Alas ! my dear, I am much 
afflicted with a disorder called the heartache, nor 
can any remedy be found in America. It must be 
collected from Holland, Petersburg, and Bilboa. 

And now, having recited my griefs and com- 
plaints, the next in place are those of my neigh- 
bours. I have been applied to by the parents of 
several Braintree youth to write to you in their be- 



166 LETTERS. 

half, requesting your aid and assistance, if it is in 
your power to afford it. Captain Cathcart, in the 
privateer Essex, from Salem, went out on a cruise 
last April in the Channel of England, and was, on 
the 10th of June, so unfortunate as to be taken and 
carried into Ireland. The officers were confined 
there, but the sailors were sent prisoners to Ply- 
mouth jail, twelve of whom are from this town, a list 
of whom I enclose. The friends of these people 
have received intelligence by way of an officer, who 
belonged to the Protector, and who escaped from the 
jail, that in August last they were all alive, several 
of them very destitute of clothing, having taken but 
a few with them and those for the summer, particu- 
larly Ned Savil and Job Field. Their request is, 
that, if you can, you would render them some assist- 
ance ; if not by procuring an exchange, that you 
would get them supplied with necessary clothing. I 
have told them, that you would do all in your power 
for them, but what that would be, I could not say. 
Their friends here are all well, many of them greatly 
distressed for their children, and in a particular man- 
ner the mother of Josiah Bass. I wish you to be 
very particular in letting me know, by various oppor- 
tunities and ways after the receipt of this, whether 
you have been able to do any thing for them, that 
I may relieve the minds of these distressed parents. 
The Captain got home about three months ago by 
escaping to France, but could give no account of his 
men after they were taken. 



LETTERS. 167 

Two years, my clearest friend, have passed away 
since you left your native land. Will you not re- 
turn ere the close of another year ? I will purchase 
you a retreat in the woods of Vermont, and retire 
with you from the vexations, toils, and hazards of 
public life. Do you not sometimes sigh for such a 
seclusion ? Public peace and domestic happiness ; 

'' an elegant sufficiency, content, 
Retirement, rural quiet; friendship, books, 
Ease and alternate labor: useful life, 
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven." 

May the time, the happy time soon arrive, when 
we may realize these blessings, so elegantly de- 
scribed by Thomson; for, though many of your 
countrymen talk in a different style with regard to 
their intentions, and express their wishes to see you 
in a conspicuous point of view in your own State, I 
feel no ambition for a share of it. I know the voice 
of fame to be a mere weather-cock, unstable as 
water and fleeting as a shadow. Yet I have pride; 
I know I have a large portion of it. 

I very fortunately received, by the Apollo, by the 
Juno, and by the Minerva, the things you sent me, 
all in good order. They will enable me to do, I 
hope, without drawing upon you, provided I can part 
with them ; but money is so scarce, and taxes so 
high, that few purchasers are found. Goods will not 
double, yet they are better than drawing bills, as 
these cannot be sold but with a larae discount. I 



168 LETTERS. 

could not get more than ninety for a hundred dollars, 
should I attempt it. 

I shall enclose an invoice to the house of Ingra- 
ham and Bromfield, and one to De Neufville. There 
is nothing from Bilboa that can be imported to advan- 
tage. Handkerchiefs are sold here at seven dollars 
and a half per dozen. There are some articles 
which would be advantageous from Holland, but 
goods there run high, and the retailing vendues, 
which are tolerated here, ruin the shopkeepers. 
The articles put up by the American house were 
better in quality for the price than those by the 
house of De Neufville. Small articles have the best 
profit ; gauze, ribbons, feathers, and flowers, to make 
the ladies gay, have the best advance. There are 
some articles, which come from India, I should sup- 
pose would be lower-priced than many others, — Ben- 
gals, nankeens, Persian silk, and bandanna handker- 
chiefs ; but the house of Bromfield know best what 
articles will suit here. 

Believe me, with more afliection than words can 
express, ever, ever, yours. 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

25 October, 1782. 



MY DKAREST FRIEND, 

The family are all retired to rest; the busy scenes 
of the day are over ; a day which 1 wished to have 



LETTERS. 169 

devoted in a particular manner to my dearest friend ; 
but company falling in prevented it, nor could I 
claim ii moment until this silent watch of the night. 

Look, (is there a dearer name than friend 7 
Think of it for me,) look to the date of this letter, 
and tell me, what are the thoughts which arise in 
your mind ? Do ycu not recollect, that eighteen 
years have run their circuit since we pledged our 
mutual faith to each other, and the hymeneal torch 
was lighted at the altar of Love? Yet, yet it burns 
with unabating fervor. Old Ocean has not quenched 
it, nor old Time smctheied it in this bosom. It cheers 
me in the lonely hour ; it comforts me even in the 
gloom which sometimes possesses my mind. 

It is, my friend, from the remembrance of the 
joys I have lost, that the arrow of affliction is pointed, 
I recollect the untitled man, to whcm I gave my 
heart, and, in the agony of recollection, when time 
and distance present themselves together, wish he 
had never been any other. Who shall give me back 
time ? Who shall compensate to me those years I 
cannot recall ? How dearly have I paid for a titled 
husband ? Should I wish you less wise, that I might 
enjoy more happiness ? I cannot find that in my 
heart. Yet Providence has wisely placed the real 
blessings of life within the reach of moderate abili- 
ties ; and he who is wiser than his neighbour sees so 
much more to pity and lament, that I doubt whether 
the balance of happiness is in his scale. 

I feel a disposition to quarrel with a race of beings 



170 LETTERS. 

who have cut me off, in the midst of my days, from 
the only society I delighted in. " Yet no man liveth 
for himself," says an authority I will not dispute. 
Let me draw satisfaction from this source, and, in- 
stead of murmuring and repining at my lot, consider 
it in a more pleasing view. Let me suppose, that 
the same gracious Being, who first smiled upon our 
union and blessed us in each other, endowed my 
friend with powers and talents for the benefit of man- 
kind, and gave him a willing mind to improve them 
for the service of his country. You have obtained 
honor and reputation at home and abroad. O ! may 
not an inglorious peace wither the laurels you have 
won. 

I wrote you by Captain GrinneH. The Firebrand 
is in great haste to return, and I fear will not give 
me time to say half I wish. I want you to say 
many more things to me than you do ; but you 
write so wise, so like a minister of state. I know 
your embarrassments. Thus again I pay for titles. 
Life takes its complexion from inferior things. It 
is little attentimis and assiduities that sweeten the 
bitter draught and smooth the rugged road. 

I have repeatedly expressed my desire to make a 
part of your family. But " Will you come and see 
me ? " cannot be taken in that serious light I should 
choose to consider an invitation from those I love. 
I do not doubt but that you would be glad to see me, 
but I know you are apprehensive of dangers and 
fatigues. I know your situation may be unsettled, 



LETTERS. 171 

and it may be more permanent than I wish it. Only 
think how the words, " three, four, and five years' 
absence," sound ? They sink into my heart with a 
weight I cannot express. Do you look like the min- 
iature you sen ? J cannot think so. But you have 
a better likeness, I am told. Is that designed for me ? 
Gracious Heaven ! restore to me the original, and I 
care not who has the shadow. 

We are hoping for the fall of Gibraltar, because 
we imagine that will facilitate a peace ; and who is 
not weary of the war? The French fleet still re- 
main with us, and the British cruisers insult them. 
More American vessels have been captured since 
they have lain here than for a year before ; the 
General Greene is taken and carried into Halifax, by 
which, I suppose, I have lost some small bundles or 
packages. Beals told me, that you gave him seven 
small packages, which he delivered Captain Bacon 
for me. The prisoners have all arrived, except 
Savil, who is yet in France. I mentioned to you 
before, that some of them had been with me, and 
offered to repay the money with which you supplied 
them. I could only tell them, that I had never re- 
ceived a line from you concerning the matter, and that 
I chose first to hear from you. I would not. receive 
a farthing, unless I had your express direction, and 
your handwriting to prove, that what you had done 
was from your private purse, which I was confident 
was the case, or you would have been as ready to 
have relieved others, if you had any public funds for 



17^ LETTERS. 

that purpose, as those which belonged to this town. 
I found a story prevailing, that what you had done 
was at the public expense. This took its rise either 
from ignorance or ingratitude ; but it fully determin- 
ed me to receive your direction. The persons who 
have been with me are the two Clarks, the two 
Leales, and . ob Field. 

Adieu, my dear friend. Ever, ever, yours, 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

13 November, 1782. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

I HAVE lived to see the close of the third year of our 
separation. This is a melancholy anniversary to 
me, and many tender scenes arise in my mind upon 
the recollection. I feel unable to sustain even the 
idea, that it will be half that period ere we meet 
again. Life is too short to have the dearest of its 
enjoyments curtailed ; the social feelings grow cal- 
lous by disuse, and lose that pliancy of affection 
which sweetens the cup of life as we drink it. The 
rational pleasures of friendship and society, and 
the still more refined sensations of which delicate 
minds only are susceptible, like the tender blossom, 
when the rude northern blasts assail them, shrink 
within and collect themselves together, deprived of 
the all-cheering and beamy influence of the sun. 
The blossom falls and the fruit withers and decays ; 



LETTERS. 173 

but here the similitude fails, for, though lost for the 
present, the season returns, the tree vegetates anew, 
and the blossom again puts forth. 

But, alas ! with me, those days which are past 
are gone for ever, and time is hastening on that 
period when I must fall to rise no more, until mor- 
tality shall put on immortality, and we shall meet 
again, pure and disembodied spirits. Could we live 
to the age of the antediluvians, we might better sup- 
port this separation ; but, when threescore years and 
ten circumscribe the life of man, how painful is the 
idea, that, of that short space, only a i^ew years of 
social happiness are our allotted portion. 

Perhaps I make you unhappy. No. You will 
enter with a soothing tenderness into my feelings. 
I see in your eyes the emotions of your heart, and 
hear the sigh that is wafted across the Atlantic to 
the bosom of Portia. But the philosopher and the 
statesman stifles these emotions, and regains a firm- 
ness which arrests my pen in my hand. 

25 November. 
I received from France by the Alexander yours, 
bearing no date, but, by the contents, written about 
the same time with those I received by Mr. Guild. 
Shall I return the compliment, and tell you in a 
poetical style, 

'' Should at my feet the world's great master fall, 
Himself, his world, his throne, I 'd scorn them all." 

No. Give me the man I love ; you arc neither 



174 LETTERS. 

of an age or temper to be allured by tbe splendor of 
a court, or the smiles of princesses. I never suf- 
fered an uneasy sensation on that account. I know 
I have a right to your whole heart, because my own 
never knew another lord ; and such is my con- 
fidence in you, that, if you were not withheld by the 
strongest of all obligations, those of a moral nature, 
your honor would not suffer you to abuse my con- 
fidence. 

But whither am I rambling? We have not any 
thing in the political way worth noticing. The fleet 
of our allies still remains with us. 

Who is there left that will sacrifice as others have 
done ? Portia, I think, stands alone, alas, in more 
senses than one. This vessel will convey to you the 
packets designed for the Firebrand. I hope, unim- 
portant as they are, they will not be lost. 

Shall I close here, without a word of my voyage ? 
I believe it is best to wait a reply, before I say any 
thing further. Our friends desire me to remember 
them to you. Your daughter, your image, your su- 
perscription, desires to be affectionately remembered 
to you. O, how many of the sweet domestic joys 
do you lose by this separation from your family. I 
have the satisfaction of seeing my children thus far 
in life behaving with credit and honor. God grant 
the pleasing prospect may never meet with an alloy, 
and return to me the dear partner of my early years, 
rewarded for his past sacrifices by the consciousness 
of having been extensively useful, not having lived 



LETTERS. 175 

to himself alone ; and may the approving voice of 
his country crown his later days in peaceful retire- 
ment, in the affectionate bosom of 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

23 December, 1782. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

I HAVE omitted writing by the last opportunity to 
Holland, because I had but small faith in the designs 
of the owners or passengers ; and I had just written 
you so largely, by a vessel bound to France, that I 
had nothing new to say. There are few occurrences 
in this northern climate, at this season of the year, 
to divert or entertain you ; and, in the domestic way, 
should I draw you the picture of my heart, it would 
be what I hope you still would love, though it con- 
tained nothing new. The early possession you ob- 
tained there, and the absolute power you have ever 
maintained over it, leave not the smallest space un- 
occupied. I look back to the early days of our ac- 
quaintance and friendship, as to the days of love and 
innocence, and, with an indescribable pleasure, I 
have seen near a score of years roll over our heads, 
with an affection heightened and improved by time ; 
nor have the dreary years of absence in the smallest 
degree effaced from my mind the image of the dear, 
untitled man to whom I gave my heart. I cannot 
sometimes refrain considering the honors with which 



176 LETTERS. 

he is invested, as badges of my unhappiness. The 
unbounded confidence 1 have in your attachment to 
me and the dear pledges of our affection, has soothed 
the solitary hour, and rendered your absence more 
supportable ; for, had I loved you with the same af- 
fection, it must have been misery to have doubted. 
Yet a cruel world too often injures my feelings, by 
wondering how a person, possessed of domestic at- 
tachments, can sacrifice them by absenting himself 
for years. 

" If you had known," said a person to me the 
other day, " that Mr. Adams would have remained 
so long abroad, would you have consented that he 
should have gone ?" I recollected myself a moment, 
and then spoke the real dictates of my heart. " If I 
had known. Sir, that Mr. Adams could have effected 
what he has done, I would not only have submitted 
to the absence I have endured, painful as it has been, 
but I would not have opposed it, even though three 
years more should be added to the number, (which 
Heaven avert !) I feel a pleasure in being able to 
sacrifice my selfish passions to the general good, 
and in imitating the example, which has taught me 
to consider myself and family but as the small dust 
of the balance, when compared with the great com- 
munity." 

It is now, my dear friend, a long, long time, since 
I had a line from you. The fate of Gibraltar leads 
me to fear, that a peace is far distant, and that I shall 
not see you, — God only knows when. I shall say 



LETTERS. 177 

little about my former request ; not that my desire is 
less, but, before this can reach you, 't is probable I 
may receive your opinion ; if in favor of my coming 
to you, I shall have no occasion to urge it further ; 
if against it, I would not embarrass you by again re- 
questing it. I will endeavour to sit down and consider 
it as the portion allotted me. My dear sons are well. 
Our friends all desire to be remembered. The fleet 
of our allies expects to sail daily, but where destined 
we know not. A great harmony has subsisted be- 
tween them and the Americans ever since their resi- 
dence here. 

Adieu, my dear friend. Why is it, that I hear so 
seldom from my dear John } But one letter have I 
ever received from him since he arrived in Peters- 
burgh. I wrote him by the last opportunity. Ever 
remember me, as I do you, with all the tenderness, 
which it is possible for one object to feel for another, 
which no time can obliterate, no distance alter, but 
which is always the same in the bosom of 

Portia. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

28 April, 1783. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

At length an opportunity offers, after a space of near 
five months, of again writing to you. Not a vessel 
from any port in this State has sailed since January, 
by which I could directly convey you a line. I have 
12 



118 LETTERS. 

written twice by way of Virginia, but fear the let- 
ters will never reach you. From you, I have lately 
received several letters, containing the most pleasing 
intelligence. 

" Peace o'er the world her olive branch extends." 

Hail, " Goddess, heavenly bright, 
Profuse of joy and pregnant with delight." 

The garb of this favorite of America is woven of 
an admirable texture, and proves the great skill, wis- 
dom, and abilities of the master workmen. It was 
not fabricated in the loom of France, nor are the 
materials English, but they are the product of our 
own American soil, raised and nurtured, not by the 
gentle showers of Heaven, but by the hard labor and 
indefatigable industry and firmness of her sons, and 
watered by the blood of many of them. May its 
duration be in proportion to its value, and, like the 
mantle of the prophet, descend with blessings to 
generations yet to come. And may you, my dearest 
friend, return to your much loved solitude, with the 
pleasing reflection of having contributed to the hap- 
piness of millions. 

We have not received any account of the signing 
the definitive treaty, so that no public rejoicings have 
taken place as yet. The fifth article in the treaty 
has raised the old spirit against the Tories to such a 
height, that it would be at the risk of their lives, 
should they venture here. It may subside after a 
white, but I question whether any State in the Union 



LETTEES. 179 

will admit them, even for twelve months. What 
then would have been the consequence, if compensa- 
tion had been granted them ? 

Your Journal has afforded me and your friends 
much pleasure and amusement. You will learn, 
perhaps, from Congress, that the Journal you meant 
for Mr. Jackson, was, by some mistake,^ enclosed to 
the Minister for Foreign Affairs, and consequently 
came before Congress, with other public papers. 
The Massachusetts delegates applied for it, but were 
refused it. Mr. Jackson was kind enough to wait 
upon me, and show me your letter to him, and the 
other papers enclosed ; and I communicated the 
Journal to him. Mr. Higginson writes, that it was 
moved in Congress by Hamilton, of Virginia, and 
Wilson, of Pennsylvania, to censure their ministers 
for departing from their duty, in not adhering to 
their instructions, and for giving offence to the Court 
of France by distrusting heir friendsliiy. They, 
however, could not carry their point. It was said, 
the instruction alluded to was founded upon reciproci- 
ty, and that Count de Vergennes had not acted upon 
that principle. When these gentry found, that it 
would not be considered in the light in which they 
wished, they gave out, that, if no more was said upon 
that subject, the other would drop. This is all I have 

1 It was this mistake which furnished the principal accusation 
made against Mr. Adams in Alexander Hamilton's celebrated 
pamphlet, published in 1800, upon the eve of the Presi enlial 
election. 



180 LETTERS. 

been able to collect. My intelligence is very im- 
perfect ^ since Mr. Lovell left Congress. Mr. Gerry, 
I believe, is determined to go again. I shall then 
have a friend and correspondent who will keep me 
informed. 

Upon receiving a letter from you, in which you 
desire me to come to you, should you be long de- 
tained abroad, I took the liberty of writing to Dr. 
Lee,^ requesting him to give me the earliest inteUi- 
gence respecting the acceptance of your resignation. 
I do not think it will be accepted, by what I have 
already learnt. If it is not, I shall still feel undeter- 
mined what to do. From many of your letters, 
I was led to suppose you would not return without 
permission. Yet I do not imagine the bare renewal 
of a former commission would induce you to tarry. 

1 This will account for the errors, which are many and striking, 
in this paragraph. No motion of the kind alluded to appears in 
the Journal of Congress. But by the papers of Mr. Madison, 
lately published, we find that it was made, and particularly direct- 
ed against Mr. Adams. It was offered, however, by Mr. Mercer 
of Virginia, and seconded by Mr. Madison himself, for reasons 
which are stated by the latter; but it was found not to be accept- 
able to a large proportion of the members, particularly to the 
Eastern delegates, and was, therefore, never pressed to a decision. 
Neither Mr. Hamilton of New York, nor Mr. Wilson of Pennsyl- 
vania, appears to have been anxious to adopt it. 

Upon this, the most controverted and debatable ground of the 
history of our Revolution, which has been elaborately occupied 
of late by Mr. Sparks, in his various contributions to it, the pres- 
ent is not the fitting occasion to add a word of commentary. — 
See the Papers of James Madison, p. 407. 

2 Arthur Lee. then a member of Congress from Virginia. 



LETTERS. 181 

I shall not run the risk, unless you are appointed 
Minister at the Court of Great Britain. 

Our friends are all well, and desire to be affec- 
tionately remembered to you. Where is our son ? 
I hear no more of him than if he was out of the 
world. You wrote me in yours of December 4th, 
that he was upon his journey to you, but I have 
never heard of his arrival. Need I add how earnest- 
ly I long for the day when Heaven will again bless 
us in the society of each other ? Whether upon 
European or American ground, is yet in the book of 
uncertainty ; but, to feel entirely happy and easy, 
I believe it must be in our own republican cottage, 
with the simplicity which has ever distinguished it 
and your ever affectionate 

Portia. 

29 April. 

I last evening received yours of February 18th, 
in which you are explicit with regard to your return. 
I shall, therefore, (let Congress renew or create what 
commission they please,) at least wait your further 
direction, though you should be induced to tarry 
abroad. I have taken no step as yet with regard to 
coming out, except writing to Dr. Lee, as mentioned 
before. Heaven send you safe to your ever af- 
fectionate 

Portia. 



182 LETTERS. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 20 June, 1783. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

If I was certain I should welcome you to your native 
land in the course of the summer, I should not re- 
gret Mr. Smith's going abroad without me. Should 
it be otherwise, should you still be detained abroad, 
I must submit, satisfied that you judge best, and that 
you would not subject me to so heavy a disappoint- 
ment, or yourself to so severe a mortification as I 
flatter myself it would be, but for the general good. 
A European life would, you say, be the ruin of our 
children. If so, I should be as loth as you to hazard 
their imbibing sentiments and opinions, which might 
make them unhappy in a sphere of life, which 't is 
probable they must fill, not by indulging in luxuries 
for which it is more than possible they might con- 
tract a taste and inclination, but in studious and la- 
borious pursuits. 

You have before this day received a joint commis- 
sion for forming a commercial treaty with Britain. 
I am at a loss td determine whether you will consid- 
er yourself so bound by it, as to tarry longer abroad. 
Perhaps there has been no juncture in the public af- 
fairs of our country, not even in the hour of our 
deepest distress, when able statesmen and wise coun- 
sellors were more wanted than at the present day. 
Peace abroad leaves us at leisure to look into our own 



LETTERS. 183 

domestic affairs. Although, upon an estimate of our 
national debt, it appears but as the small dust of the 
balance when compared to the object we have ob- 
tained, and the benefits we have secured, yet the 
restless spirit of man will not be restrained ; and we 
have reason to fear, that domestic jars and confusion 
will take place of foreign contentions and devasta- 
tion. Congress have commuted with the army, by 
engaging to them five years' pay in lieu of half-pay 
for life. With security for this, they will disband 
contented ; but our wise legislators are about disput- 
ing the power of Congress to do either, without con- 
sidering their hands in the mouth of the lion, and that, 
if the just and necessary food is not supplied, the out- 
rageous animal may become so ferocious as to spread 
horror and devastation. Another Theseus may arise, 
who, by his reputation and exploits of valor, his 
personal character and universal popularity, may 
destroy our Amphictyonic system, and subjugate our 
infant republic to monarchical domination. 

Our House of Representatives is this year com- 
posed of more than a hundred new members, some 
of whom, no doubt, are good men. Nearly all the 
able and skilful members, who composed the last 
House, have lost their seats by voting for the return 
of Mr. Brattle, notwithstanding the strongest evidence 
in h s favor, and the many proofs which were pro- 
duced of his friendly conduct towards America. For 
this crime, our worthy friend Mr. Cranch was drop- 
ped by this town. The Senate is a loser this year 



184 LETTERS. 

by the resignation of some excellent members. We 
have in this State an impost of five per cent., and 
an excise act, whilst the neighbouring Stales have 
neither. Foreigners, finding this the case, carry 
their cargoes to other States. At this the merchant 
grumbles, the farmer groans with his taxes, and the 
mechanic for want of employ. Heaven avert, that, 
like the Greek republics, we should, by civil dissen- 
sion, weaken our power and crush our rising great- 
ness, that the blood of our citizens should be shed in 
vain, and the labor and toil of our statesmen be 
finally baffled through niggardly parsimony, lavish 
prodigality, or ignorance of our real interests. We 
want a Solomon in wisdom, to guide and conduct 
this great people at this critical era, when the coun- 
sels which are taken and the measures which are 
pursued will mark our future character, either with 
honor and fame, or disgrace and infamy. In ad- 
versity, we have conducted with prudence and mag- 
nanimity. Heaven forbid that we should grow giddy 
with prosperity ; or the height, to which we have 
soared, render a fall conspicuously fatal. 

Thus far I had written when your welcome favor 
of March 28th reached me. I was not disappointed 
in finding you uncertain with regard to the time of 
your return. Should the appointment, which I fear 
and you have hinted at, take place, it would indeed 
be a dull day to me. I have not a wish to join in a 
scene of life so different from that, in which I have 
been educated, and in which my early, and, I must 



LETTERS. 185 

suppose, happier days, have been spent. Curiosity 
satisfied, and I shall sigh for tranquil scenes, 

'•' And wish that Heaven had left me still 
The whispering zephyr and the purling rill." 

Well-ordered home is my chief delight, and the 
affectionate, domestic wife, with the relative duties 
which accompany that character, my highest am- 
bition. It was the disinterested wish of sacrificing 
my personal feelings to the public utility, which first 
led me to think of unprotectedly hazarding a voyage. 
I say unprotectedly, for so I consider every lady, 
who is not accompanied by her husband. This 
objection could only be surmounted by the earnest 
wish I had to soften those toils which were not to be 
dispensed with; and, if the public welfare required 
your labors and exertions abroad, I flattered myself 
that, if I could be with you, it might be in my power 
to contribute to your happiness and pleasure. But 
the day is now arrived, when, with honor and well- 
earned fame, you may return to your native land ; 
when I cannot any longer consider it as my duty to 
submit to a further separation ; and when it appears 
necessary, that those abilities, which have crowned 
you with laurels abroad, shall be exerted at home 
for the public safety. 

I do not wish you to accept an embassy to Eng- 
land, should you be appointed. This little cottage 
has more heart-felt satisfaction for you than the 
most brilliant court can afford. 

I will bid you good night. Yours, 

Portia. 



186 



LETTERS. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

19 November, 1783. 



MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

Your favor, dated at Amsterdam in July, was last 
evening handed me, and this evening your letter of 
the 10th of September, by Colonel Ogden, reached 
me. I had for some time supposed that the delay 
of public business would retard your return ; and, 
knowing that the definitive treaty was not completed 
until September, and that the commercial treaty was 
still to form, I had little reason to expect you, unless 
your state of health required an immediate resigna- 
tion of all public business. Your letter, therefore , 
which informs me of your determination to pass 
another winter abroad, is by no means unexpected- 
That we must pass it with a vast ocean between us 
is a reflection no ways pleasurable, yet this must be 
the case. I had much to do to persuade myself to 
venture a summer passage, but a winter one I never 
could think of encountering. I am too much of a 
coward. It is now the middle of November. It 
would be December or January, before I could pos- 
sibly adjust all my affairs ; and I know of no person 
with whom I am acquainted, except Mr. Jackson of 
Newburyport, who is now going abroad. Mr. Tem- 
ple and family sail this month. Besides, there is a 
stronger objection with me than even a winter's 
voyage. Congress have not appointed any person 



LETTERS. 187 

yet to the Court of Britain. There are many who 
wish for that place. Many who have a more splen- 
did title, and many more thousands, to claim it with. 
I know Mr. Jay has written pressingly to Congress 
in your favor, and absolutely declined it himself; 
but whether you will finally be the person is among 
the uncertain events. One thing, however, is certain ; 
that I do not wish it. I should have liked very well 
to have gone to France and resided there a year ; 
but to think of going to England in a public charac- 
ter, and engaging, at my time of life, in scenes quite 
new, attended with dissipation, parade, and nonsense, 
— lam sure I should make an awkward figure. The 
retired domestic circle, " the feast of reason and the 
flow of soul," are my ideas of happiness, and my most 
ardent wish is to have you return and become master 
of the feast. My health is infirm. I am still subject 
to a severe nervous pain in my head, and fatigue of 
any kind will produce it. Neither of us appears to 
be built for duration. Would to Heaven, the few 
remaining days allotted us might be enjoyed to- 
gether. It has been my misfortune, that I could not 
attend to your health, watch for your repose, alle- 
viate your hours of anxiety, and make you a home 
wherever you resided. More, says a skilful doctor, 
depends upon the nurse than the physician. My 
determination is to tarry at home this winter; and, if 
I cannot prevail upon you to return to me in the 
spring, you well know that I may be drawn to you, 
provided there is any stability in Congress. One 



188 



LETTERS. 



Strong tie, which held me here, is dissolved. My 
dear parent ^ used to say, " You must never go, child, 
whilst 1 live." It is far from being my inclination. 

Mr. Thaxter will be able to give me, when he 
arrives, the best intelligence upon the subject. I 
wrote largely to you last week. I hope this letter 
will go by a French brig. 

Adieu, and believe me, whether present or absent, 
Most affectionately yours. 



TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

Braintree, 20 November, 1783. 

This evening, as I was sitting with only your sister 
by my side, who was scribbling to some of her cor- 
respondents, my neighbour, Field, entered with, " I 
have a letter for you. Madam." My imagination 
was wandering to Paris, ruminating upon the long, 
long absence of my dear son and his parent, so that I 
was rather inattentive to what he said, until he re- 
peated, " I have letters for you from abroad." The 
word " abroad," roused my attention, and I eagerly 
seized the letters, the handwriting and seal of which 
gave me hopes, that I was once more about to hear 
from my young wanderer; nor was I disappointed. 

After two years' silence, and a journey of which 
I can scarcely form an idea, to find you safely re- 

1 The death of the Rev. Mr. Smith, the father of Mrs. Adams, 
Icok place not long before the date of this letter. 



LETTERS, 189 

turned to your parent, to hear of your health and to 
see your improvements ! You cannot know, should 
I describe to you, the feeUngs of a parent. Through 
your father, I sometimes heard from you, but one 
letter only ever reached me after you arrived in 
Russia. Your excuses, however, have weight and 
are accepted ; but you must give them further ener- 
gy by a ready attention to your pen in future. Four 
years have already passed away since you left your 
native land and this rural cottage ; humble indeed 
when compared to the palaces you have visited, and 
the pomp you have been witness to ; but I dare say, 
you have not been so inattentive an observer as to 
suppose, that sweet peace and contentment cannot 
inhabit the lowly roof and bless the tranquil inhab- 
itants, equally guarded and protected in person and 
property in this happy country as those who reside 
in the most elegant and costly dwellings. If you 
live to return, I can form to myself an idea of the 
pleasure you will take in treading over the ground 
and visiting every place your early years were ac- 
customed wantonly to gambol in; even the rocky 
common and lowly whortleberry bush will not be 
without their beauties. 

My anxieties have been and still are great, lest 
the numerous temptations and snares of vice should 
vitiate your early habits of virtue, and destroy those ' 
principles, which you are now capable of reasoning 
upon, and discerning the beauty and utility of, as the 
only rational source of happiness here, or foundation 



190 LETTERS. 

of felicity hereafter. Placed as we are in a transi- 
tory scene of probation, drawing nigher and still 
nigher day after day to that important crisis which 
must introduce us into a new system of things, it 
ought certainly to be our principal concern to be- 
come qualified for our expected dignity. 

What is it, that affectionate parents require of their 
children, for all their care, anxiety, and toil on their 
account.? Only that they would be wise and vir- 
tuous, benevolent and kind. 

Ever keep in mind, my son, that your parents are 
your disinterested friends, and that if, at any time, 
their advice militates with your own opinion or the 
advice of others, you ought always to be diffident of 
your own judgment ; because you may rest assured, 
that their opinion is founded on experience and long 
observation, and that they would not direct you but 
to promote your happiness. Be thankful to a kind 
Providence, who has hitherto preserved the lives of 
your parents, the natural guardians of your youthful 
years. With gratitude I look up to Heaven, blessing 
the hand which continued to me my dear and hon- 
ored parents until I was settled in life ; and, though 
now I regret the loss of them, and daily feel the 
want of their advice and assistance, I cannot suffer 
as I should have done, if I had been early deprived 
■ of them. 

You will doubtless have heard of the death of your 
worthy grandpapa before this reaches you. He 
left you a legacy more valuable than gold or silver ; 



LETTERS. 191 

he left you his blessing and his prayers that you 
might return to your country and s, improved 

in knowledge and matured in virtue ; that you mii^ht 
become a useful citizen, a guardian of the laws, 
liberty, and religion of your country, as your father 
(he was pleased to say) had already been. Lay this 
bequest up n your memory, and practise upon it ; 
believe me, you will find it a treasure that neither 
moth nor rust can devour. 

I received letters from your father last evening, 
dated in Paris the 10th of September, informing me 
of the necessity of his continuance abroad this win- 
ter. The season is so far advanced that I readily 
sacrifice the desire of seeing him to his safety ; a 
voyage upon this coast at this season is fraught with 
dangers. He has made me a request, that I dare 
not comply with at presen . ^o husband, no son, to 
accompany me upon the boisterous ocean, to ani- 
mate my courage and dispel my fears, I dare not 
engage with so formidable a combatant. If I should 
find your father fixed in the spring, and determined 
to continue abroad a year or two longer, the earnest 
desire I have to meet him and my dear son might 
overcome the reluctance I feel at the idea of eno-acr. 
ing in a new scene, and the love I have for domestic 
attachments and the still calm of life. But it would be 
more agreeable to me to enjoy all my friends to- 
gether in my own native land ; from those who have 
visited foreign climes I could listen with pleasure to 



192 



LETTERS. 



the narrative of their adventures, and derive satisfac- 
tion from the lef rned detail, content, myself, that 

"The little learning I have gained, 
Is all from simple nature drained." 

I have a desire that you might finish your educa- 
tion at our University, and I see no chance for it 
unless you return in the course of the year. Your 
cousin, Mr. Cranch, expects to enter next July. He 
would be happy to have you his associate. I hope 
your father will indulge you with a visit to England 
this winter. It is a country I should be fond of your 
seeing. Christianity, which teaches us to forgive our 
enemies, prevents me from enjoining upon you a 
similar vow to that which Hamilcar obtained from 
his son Hannibal, but I know not how to think of 
loving those haughty islanders. 

Your friends send you their affectionate regards ; 
and I enjoin it upon you to write often to your 
ever affectionate mother, 

A. Adams. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Braintree, 18 December, 1783. 

MY DEAREST FKIEND, 

I RETURNED last evening from Boston, where I went 
at the kind invitation of my uncle and aunt, to cele- 
brate our annual festival. Dr. Cooper being dan- 
gerously sick, I went to hear Mr. Clark, who is 
settled with Dr. Chauncy. This gentleman gave us 
an animated, elegant, and sensible discourse, from 



LETTERS. , 193 

Isaiah, 55th chapter, and 12th verse. " For ye 
shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace ; 
the mountains and the hills shall break forth before 
you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall 
clap their hands." 

Whilst he ascribed glory and praise unto the Most 
High, he considered the worthy, disinterested, and 
undaunted patriots as the instruments in the hand of 
Providence for accomplishing what was marvellous 
in our eyes. He recapitulated the dangers they had 
passed through, and the hazards they had run ; the 
firmness which had, in a particular manner, distin- 
guished some characters, not only early to engage 
in so dangerous a contest, but, in spite of our gloomy 
prospects, to persevere even unto the end, until 
they had obtained a peace, safe and honorable, large 
as our desires, and much beyond our expectations. 

How did my heart dilate with pleasure, when, as 
each event was particularized, I could trace my 
friend as a principal in them ; could say it was he 
who was one of the first in joining the band of 
patriots who formed our first national council ; it 
was he, who, though happy in his domestic attach- 
ments, left his wife, his children, then but infants, 
even surrounded with the horrors of war, terrified 
and distressed, the week before the memorable 19th 
of April, — left them to the protection of that Provi- 
dence which has never forsaken them, and joined 
himself undismayed to that respectable body, of 
which he was a member. Trace his conduct through 
13 



194 LETTERS. 

every period, you will find him the same undaunted 
character, encountering the dangers of the ocean, 
risking captivity and a dungeon ; contending with 
wickedness in high places ; jeoparding his life, en- 
dangered by the intrigues, revenge, and malice of a 
potent, though defeated nation. These are not the 
mere eulogiums of conjugal affection, but certain 
facts and solid truths. My anxieties, my distresses, 
at every period, bear witness to them ; though now, 
by a series of prosperous events, the recollection is 
more sweet than painful. 

Whilst I was in town, Mr. Dana arrived very 
unexpectedly ; for I had not received your letters by 
Mr. Thaxter. My uncle fortunately discovered him 
as he came up State Street, and instantly engaged 
him to dine with him, acquainting him that I was in 
town and at his house. The news soon reached my 
ears; "Mr. Dana arrived," — "Mr. Dana arrived," 
— from every person you saw ; but how was I affect- 
ed .? The tears involuntarily flowed from my eyes. 
Though God is my witness, I envied not the felicity 
of others, yet my heart swelled with grief; and 
the idea that I, I only, was left alone, recalled all 
the tender scenes of separation, and overcame all 
my fortitude. I retired, and reasoned myself into 
composure sufficient to see him without a childish 
emotion. 

But, ! my dearest friend, what shall I say to 
you in reply to your pressing invitation. I have 
already written to you in answer to your letters. 



LETTERS. 195 

which were dated September lOlh, and reached me 
a month before those by Mr. Thaxter. I related to 
you all my fears respecting a winter's voyage. My 
friends are all against it, and Mr. Gerry, as you will 
see by the copy of his letter enclosed, has given his 
opinion upon well-grounded reasons. If I should 
leave my affairs in the hands of my friends, there 
would be much to think of and much to do, to place 
them in that method and order I would wish to leave 
them in. Theory and practice are two very different 
things, and the object is magnified as I approach 
nearer to it: I think if you were abroad in a private 
character, and necessitated to continue there, I should 
not hesitate so much at coming to you ; but a mere 
American, as I am, unacquainted with the etiquette 
of courts, taught to say the thing I mean, and to 
wear my heart in my countenance, I am sure I 
should make an awkward figure ; and then it would 
mortify my pride, if I should be thought to disgrace 
you. Yet, strip royalty of its pomp and power, and 
what are its votaries more than their fellow worms .? 
I have so little of the ape about me, that I have 
refused every public invitation to figure in the gay 
world, and sequestered myself in this humble cot- 
tage, content with rural life and my domestic em- 
ployment, in the midst of which I have sometimes 
smiled upon recollecting that I had the honor of 
being allied to an ambassador. 

Adieu. 



196 LETTERS. 



TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

Braintrec; 26 December, 1783. 

MY DEAR SON, 

Your letters by Mr. Thaxter, I received, and was 
not a little pleased with them. If you do not write 
with the precision of a Robertson, nor the elegance 
of a Voltaire, it is evident you have profited by the 
perusal of them. The account of your northern 
journey, and your observation upon the Russian gov- 
ernment, would do credit to an older pen. 

The early age at which you went abroad gave 
you not an opportunity of becoming acquainted with 
your own country. Yet the revolution, in which we 
were engaged, held it up in so striking and impor- 
tant a light, that you could not avoid being in some 
measure irradiated with the view. The characters 
with which you were connected, and the conversa- 
tion you continually heard, must have impressed 
your mind with a sense of the laws, the liberties, 
and the glorious privileges, which distinguish the 
free, sovereign, independent States of America. 

Compare them with the vassalage of the Russian 
government you have described, and say, were 
this highly favored land barren as the mountains of 
Switzerland, and covered ten months in the year 
with snow, would she not have the advantage even 
of Italy, with her orange groves, her breathing 
statues, and her melting strauis of music ? or of 



LETTERS. 197 

Spain, with her treasures from Mexico and Peru ? not 
one of which can boast that first of blessings, the 
glory of human nature, the inestimable privilege of 
sitting down under their vines and fig-trees, enjoying 
in peace and security whatever Heaven has lent 
them, having none to make them afraid. 

Let your observations and comparisons produce in 
your mind an abhorrence of domination and power, 
the parent of slavery, ignorance, and barbarism, 
which places man upon a level with his fellow 
tenants of the woods ; 

" A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty 
Is worth a whole eternity of bondage." 

You have seen power in its various forms, — a 
benign deity, when exercised in the suppression of 
fraud, injustice, and tyranny, but a demon, when 
united with unbounded ambition, — a wide-wasting 
fury, who has destroyed her thousands. Not an 
age of the world but has produced characters, to 
which whole human hecatombs have been sacri- 
ficed. 

What is the history of mighty kingdoms and na- 
tions, but a detail of the ravages and cruelties of the 
powerful over the weak ? Yet it is instructive to 
trace the various causes, which produced the strength 
of one nation, and the decline and weakness of 
another ; to learn by what arts one man has been 
able to subjugate millions of his fellow creatures, 
the motives which have put him upon action, and 



198 LETTERS. 

the causes of his success ; — sometimes driven by 
ambition and a lust of power ; at other times, swal- 
lowed up by religious enthusiasm, blind bigotry, and 
ignorant zeal ; sometimes enervated with luxury and 
debauched by pleasure, until the most powerful na- 
tions have become a prey and been subdued by 
these Sirens, when neither the number of their ene- 
mies, nor the prowess of their arms, could conquer 
them. History informs us that the Assyrian empire 
sunk under the arms of Cyrus, with his poor but 
hardy Persians. The extensive and opulent empire 
of Persia fell an easy prey to Alexander and a hand- 
ful of Macedonians; and the Macedonian empire, 
when enervated by the luxury of Asia, was com- 
pelled to receive the yoke of the victorious Romans. 
Yet even this mistress of the world, as she is proudly 
styled, in her turn defaced her glory, tarnished her 
virtues, and became a prey to luxury, ambition, 
faction, pride, revenge, and avarice, so that Jugur- 
tha, after having purchased an acquittance for the 
blackest of crimes, breaks out into an exclamation, 
" O city, ready for sale, if a buyer rich enough can 
be found ! " 

The history of your own country and the late 
revolution are striking and recent instances of the 
mighty things achieved by a brave, enlightened, and 
hardy people, determined to be free ; the very yeo- 
manry of which, in many instances, have shown 
themselves superior to corruption, as Britain well 
knows, on more occasions than the loss of her 



LETTERS. 199 

Andre. Glory, my son, in a country which has 
given birlh to characters, both in the civil and mili- 
tary departments, which may vie with the wisdom 
and valor of antiquity. As an immediate descendant 
of one of those characters, may you be led to an 
imitation of that disinterested patriotism and that 
noble love of your country, which will teach you to 
despise wealth, titles, pomp, and equipage, as mere 
external advantages, which cannot add to the inter- 
nal excellence of your mind, or compensate for the 
want of integrity and virtue. 

May your mind be thoroughly impressed with the 
absolute necessity of universal virtue and goodness, 
as the only sure road to happiness, and may you 
walk therein with undeviating steps, — is the sincere 
and most affectionate wish of 

Your mother, 

A. Adams. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

On board ship Active, Latitude 44, Longitude 34. 
Tuesday^ 6 July, 1784. From the Ocean. 



MY DEAR SISTER, 



I HAVE been sixteen days at sea, and have not at- 
tempted to write a single letter. 'T is true, I have 
kept a journal whenever I was able ; but that must 
be close locked up, unless I was sure to hand it you 
with safety. 

'T is said of Cato, the Roman Censor, that one of 



200 LETTERS. 

the three things, which he regretted during his hfe, 
was going once by sea when he might have made 
his journey by land. I fancy the philosopher was 
not proof against that most disheartening, dispiriting 
malady, sea-sickness. Of this I am very sure, that 
no lady would ever wish a second time to try the 
sea, were the objects of her pursuit within the reach 
of a land journey. I have had frequent occasion 5 
since I came on board, to recollect an observation of 
my best friend's, " that no being in nature was so 
disagreeable as a lady at sea," and this recollection 
has in a great measure reconciled me to the thought 
of being at sea without him ; for one would not wish, 
my dear sister, to be thought of in that light by 
those, to whom we would wish to appear in our best 
array. The decency and decorum of the most 
delicate female must in some measure yield to the 
necessities of nature ; and, if you have no female 
capable of rendering you the least assistance, you 
will feel grateful to any one who will feel for you, 
and relieve or compassionate your sufferings. 

And this was truly the case of your poor sister 
and all her female companions, when not one of us 
could make her own bed, put on or take off her 
shoes, or even lift a finger. As to our other cloth- 
ing, we wore the greater part of it until we were 
able to help ourselves. Added to this misfortune, 
Briesler, my man-servant, was as bad as any of us. 
But for Job, I know not what we should have done. 
Kind, attentive, quick, neat, he was our nurse for 



LETTERS. 201 

two days and nights ; and, from handling the sails 
at the top-gallant-mast head, to the more feminine 
employment of making wine-cordial, he has not his 
equal on board. In short, he is the favorite of the 
whole ship. Our sickness continued for ten days, 
with some intermissions. We crawled upon deck 
whenever we were able ; but it was so cold and 
damp, that we could not remain long upon it. And 
the confinement of the air below, the constant rolling 
of the vessel, and the nausea of the ship, which was 
much too tight, contributed to keep up our disease. 
The vessel is very deep loaded with oil and potash. 
The oil leaks, the potash smokes and ferments. 
All adds to the flavor. When you add to all his 
the horrid dirtiness of the ship, the slovenliness of 
the steward, and the unavoidable slopping and spill- 
ing occasioned by the tossing of the ship, I am sure 
you will be thankful that the pen is not in the hand of 
Swift or Smollet, and still more so that you are far 
removed from the scene. No sooner was I able to 
move, than I found it necessary to make a bustle 
amongst the waiters, and demand a cleaner abode. 
By this time, Briesler was upon his feet, and, as I 
found I might reign mistress on board without any 
offence, I soon exerted my authority with scrapers, 
mops, brushes, infusions of vinegar, &c., and in a 
few hours you would have thought yourself in a 
different ship. Since which, our abode is much 
more tolerable, and the gentlemen all thank me for 
my care. Our captain is an admirable seaman, 



202 LETTERS. 

always attentive to his sails and his rigging ; keeps 
the deck all night ; careful of everybody on board ; 
watchful that they run no risk ; kind and humane to 
his men, who are all as still and quiet as any private 
family ; nothing cross or dictatorial in his manners ; 
a much more agreeable man than I expected to find 
him. He cannot be called a polished gentleman ; 
but he is, so far as I have seen, a very clever man. 
We have for passengers, a Colonel Norton, who is 
a grave, sedate man, of a good natural understanding, 
improved by business and converse with mankind ; 
his literary accomplishments not very great. A Mr. 
Green, a Scotchman I am persuaded ; a high preroga- 
tive man ; plumes himself upon his country ; haugh- 
ty and imperious, but endeavours to hide this with 
the appearance of politeness, which, however, he is 
too apt to transgress upon any occasion when a 
subject arises which does not entirely agree with 
his sentiments ; he calls himself an Englishman ; has 
been in the British service during the war, as a 
secretary on board some of the British admirals. 
He is a man of sense and of reading, the most so of 
any we have on board. Next to him is Dr. Clark, 
to whom we are under obligations for every kind- 
ness and every attention, that it is in the power of a 
gentleman and a physician to show. Humane, be- 
nevolent, tender, and attentive not only to the ladies, 
but to every one on board, to the servant as well as 
the master, he has rendered our voyage much more 
agreeable and pleasant than it possibly could have 



LETTERS. 203 

been without him. His advice we have stood in 
need of, and his care we have felt the benefit of. 
A brother could not have been kinder, nor a parent 
tenderer, and it was all in the pleasant, easy, cheer- 
ful way, without any thing studied, labored, or ful- 
some ; the natural result of a good heart, possessed 
with the power of making others happy. 

'T is not a little attention that we ladies stand in 
need of at sea ; for it is not once in the twenty-four 
hours that we can even cross the cabin without being 
held or assisted. Nor can we go upon deck without 
the assistance of two gentlemen, and when there, we 
are always bound into our chairs. Whilst you, 
I imagine, are scorching under the midsummer heat, 
we can comfortably bear our double calico gowns, 
our baize ones upon them, and a cloth cloak in ad- 
dition to all these. 

Mr. Foster is another passenger on board, a mer- 
chant, a gentleman soft in his manners, very polite 
and kind ; loves domestic life, and thinks justly of it. 
I respect him on this account. Mr. Spear brings up 
the rear, a single gentleman, with a great deal of 
good humor, some wit, and much drollery ; easy 
and happy, blow high or blow low ; can sleep and 
laugh at all seasons. These are our male com- 
panions. I hardly thought a Lieutenant Mellicot 
worth mentioning, who is, I believe, a mere pot- 
companion, though he keeps not with us except at 
meal-times, when he does not behave amiss. My 



204 LETTERS. 

namesake^ you know. She is a modest, pretty 
woman, and behaves very well. 

I have accustomed myself to writing a little every 
day, when I was able, so that a small motion of the 
ship does not render it more unintelligible than 
usual; but there is no time, since I have been at 
sea, when the ship is what we call still, that its 
motion is not equal to the moderate rocking of a 
cradle. As to wind and weather, since we came out, 
they have been very fortunate for us in general. 
We have had three calm days, and two days con- 
trary wind, with a storm, I called it ; but the sailors 
say it was only a breeze. This was upon the Banks 
of Newfoundland, the wind at east ; through the day 
we could not sit in our chairs, only as some gentle- 
man sat by us with his arm fastened into ours, and 
his feet braced against a table or chair, that was 
lashed down with ropes ; bottles, mugs, plates, 
crashing to pieces, first on one side and then on the 
other ; the sea running mountain-high, and knocking 
against the sides of the vessel as though it would 
burst them. When I became so fatigued with 
the incessant motion as not to be able to sit any 
longer, I was assisted into my cabin, where I was 
obliged to hold myself in with all my might the re- 
mainder of the night. No person, who is a stranger 
to the sea, can form an adequate idea of the debility 
occasioned by sea-sickness. The hard rocking of a 

1 A Mrs. Adams, a passenger, bearing the same name, but in no 
way related to the author of the letter. 



LETTERS. 205 

ship in a storm, and the want of sleep for many- 
nights, altogether reduce one to such a lassitude, 
that you care little for your fate. The old seamen 
thought nothing of all this, nor once entertained an 
idea of danger. Compared to what they have suf- 
fered, I do suppose it was trifling ; but to me it was 
alarming, and I most heartily prayed, if this was 
only a breeze, to be delivered from a storm. 

Our accommodations on board are not what I 
could wish, or hoped for. We cannot be alone, 
only when the gentlemen are thoughtful enough to 
retire upon deck, which they do for about an hour 
in the course of the day. Our state-rooms are about 
half as large as cousin Betsey's little chamber, with 
two cabins in each. Mine had three, but I could not 
live so. Upon which Mrs. Adams's brother gave up 
his to Abby,^ and we are now stowed two and two. 
This place has a small grated window, which opens 
into the companion-way, and by this is the only air 
admitted. The door opens into the cabin, where the 
gentlemen all sleep, and where we sit, dine, &c. 
We can only live with our door shut, whilst we dress 
and undress. Necessity has no law ; but what should 
I have thought on shore, to have laid myself down to 
sleep in common with half a dozen gentlemen ? 
We have curtains, it is true, and we only in part 
undress, about as much as the Yankee bundlers ; but 
we have the satisfaction of falling in with a set of 
well-behaved, decent gentlemen, whose whole de- 

1 The daughter of Mrs. Adams. 



206 LETTERS. 

portment is agreeable to the strictest delicacy, both 
in word and action. 

If the wind and weather continue as favorable as 
they have hitherto been, we expect to make our 
passage in thirty days, which is going a hundred 
miles a day. 'T is a vast tract of ocean which we 
have to traverse ; I have contemplated it with its 
various appearances. It is indeed a secret world of 
wonders, and one of the sublimest objects in Nature. 

" Thou mak'st the foaming billows roar, 
Thou mak'st the roaring billows sleep." 

They proclaim the Deity, and are objects too vast 
for the control of feeble man. That Being alone, 
who " maketh the clouds his chariot, and rideth 
upon the wings of the wind," is equal to the govern- 
ment of this stupendous part of creation. 

And now, my dear sister, after this minute account 
of my important self, which, judging by myself, you 
take an affectionate interest in, I call upon you to 
inquire after your welfare, my much esteemed 
brother's, and my dear niece's. Not a day or night 
but I visit your calm retreat, look at my own de- 
serted habitation, and recollect past endearments 
with a melancholy composure, and really am so 
vain as to commiserate you on account of the vacu- 
ity I fancy my absence occasions. 

" We are so formed," says an ingenious writer, 
" as to be always pleased with somewhat in prospect, 
however distant, or however trivial." Thus do I 
gratify myself with the idea of returning to my na- 



LETTERS. 207 

tive land, though the prospect is distant. " Plea- 
sures," says Pope, " are ever in our hands or 
eyes." 1 have lost part of the other line, but 
the idea is, that, if we are not in the present pos- 
session of them, they rise to us in prospect.^ I 
will now tell you where I am sitting. At a square 
table in the great cabin, at one corner of which are 
Colonel Norton and Mr. Foster, engaged in play- 
ing backgammon ; at the other, Mr. Green, writing ; 
and at the fourth. Dr. Clark, eating h m. Behind 
Colonel Norton, Mr. Spear, reading Thomson's 
"Seasons " with his hat on. Young Lawrence be- 
hind me, reading Anson's "Voyages"; Esther,^ 
knitting ; the steward and boys, bustling about after 
wine and porter ; and last of all, as the least impor- 
tantly employed, Mrs. Adams and Abby, in their 
cabin asleep, and this at twelve o'clock in the day. 
O shame ! The Captain comes down and finds me 
writing ; kindly tenders me some large paper to 
write upon ; I believe he thinks I shall have occasion 
for it. This man has a kindness in his disposition, 
which his countenance does not promise. Mr. Green 
comes down from deck, and reports that the mate 
says we are sixteen hundred miles on our way. This 
is good nearing ; I can scarcely realize myself upon 
the ocean, or that I am within fourteen hundred 
miles of the British coast. I rejoice with trembling ; 

1 " Pleasures are ever in our hands and eyes ; 

And, when in act they cease, in prospect rise." 

2 A female domestic of Mrs, Adams. 



208 LETTERS. 

painful and fearful ideas will arise and intermix with 
the pleasurable hopes of a joyful meeting of my long 
absent friend. I frequently recollect some lines of 
Miss More's, in her " Sir Eldred of the Bower," 
describing a mixture of hope and anxiety. She 
says ; 

" 'T was such a sober sense of joy, 
As angels well might keep ; 
A joy chastised by piety, 
A joy prepared to weep." 

I shall write, whilst I am on board, whenever I can 
catch a quiet time. It is an amusement to me ; read- 
ing tires one ; work I do sometimes, but, when there 
is no writing, there is less pleasure in working ; I 
shall keep the letter open until I arrive, and put it on 
board the first vessel I find coming to America. 
'Tis impossible for me to find any variety at sea 
to entertain my friends with, so that this letter with 
all its inaccuracies must be submitted to them. Do 
not however expose me, especially where I have a 
little credit ; you know very well that affection and 
intimacy will cover a multitude of faults. 

7 July. 
If I did not write every day, I should lose the 
days of the month and of the week ; confined all day 
on account of the weather, which is foggy, misty, and 
wet. You can hardly judge how irksome this con- 
finement is. When the whole ship is at our service, 
it is little better than a prison. We suppose our- 



LETTEKS. 



209 



selves near the Western Islands. O dear variety ! 
how pleasmg to the human mind is change. I cannot 
find such a fund of entertainment within myself as 
not to require outward objects for my amusement. 
Nature abounds with variety, and the mind, unless 
fixed down by habit, delights in contemplating new 
objects ; and the variety of scenes which present 
themselves to the senses were certainly designed to 
prevent our attention from being too long fixed upon 
any one object. " This," says a late celebrated 
medical writer, " greatly conduces to the health of 
the animal frame ; your studious people and your 
deep thinkers," he observes, " seldom enjoy either 
health or spirits." 

I have been in much trouble, upon looking over my 
letters since I came on board, to find those given me 
by my friend, Mrs. Warren, missing. I cannot ac- 
count for it in any other way, than that I must have 
put them into the pocket of the chaise, when I 
received them, which I recollect ; and I did not 
think to take them out. You remember the day 
with all the circumstances, and will accordingly apol- 
ogize to our friend, whose goodness, I know, will par- 
don the omission, nor add to my mortification by 
charging it to inattention. 

s July. 
Another wet, drizzly day, but we must not com- 
plain, for we have a fair wind, our sails all square, 
and go at seven knots an hour. I have made a great 
14 



210 LETTERS. 

acquisition. I have learnt the names and places of 
all the masts and sails ; and the Captain compliments 
me by telling me that he is sure I know well enough 
how to steer, to take a turn at the helm. I may do 
pretty well in fair weather, but 't is your masculine 
spirits that are made for storms. I love the tranquil 
scenes of life. Nor can I look forward to those in 
which 't is probable I shall soon be engaged with 
those pleasurable ideas, which a retrospect of the 
past presents to my mind. 

I went last evening upon deck, at the invitation of 
Mr. Foster, to view that phenomenon of Nature, a 
blazing ocean. A light flame spreads over the 
ocean, in appearance, with thousands of thousands 
of sparkling gems, resembling our fire-flies in a dark 
night. It has a most beautiful appearance. I never 
view the ocean without being filled with ideas of the 
sublime, and am ready to break forth with the Psalm- 
ist, " Great and marvellous are thy works. Lord God 
Almighty ; in wisdom hast thou made them all." 

Saturday, lOth. 

Yesterday was a very pleasant day. Very little 
wind, but a fine sun and a smooth sea. I spent most 
of the day upon deck, reading ; it was not, however, 
so warm but a baize gown was very comfortable. 
The ship has gradually become less irksome to me. 
If our cook was but tolerably clean, I could relish 
my food. But he is a great, dirty, lazy negro, with 
no more knowledge of cookery than a savage, nor 



LETTERS. 211 

any kind of order in the distribution of his dishes ; 
but on they come, higgledy-piggledy, with a leg of 
pork all bristly ; a quarter of an hour after, a pud- 
ding ; or, perhaps, a pair of roast fowls, first of all, 
and then will follow one by one a piece of beef, 
and, when dinner is nearly completed, a plate of 
potatoes. Such a fellow is a real imposition upon 
the passengers. But gentlemen know but little 
about the matter, and, if they can get enough to eat 
five times a day, all goes well. We ladies have not 
eaten, upon our whole passage, more than just 
enough to satisfy nature, or to keep body and soul 
together. 

Thursday, 15th of July. 
On Sunday, I wrote part of a letter to sister Shaw, 
since which I have not used my pen, even in my 
journal. Monday we had a fair wind, but too much 
to be able to write, as it was right aft, and we pitch- 
ed exceedingly, which is a motion more disagreeable 
to me than the rocking, though less fatiguing. On 
Tuesday a calm. Should you not suppose that in a 
calm we at least had the satisfaction of lying still ? 
Alas ! it is far otherwise, as my flesh and bones 
witness; a calm generally succeeds a storm or a 
fresh breeze ; the sea has a great swell after the 
wind is silent, so that the ship lies entirely at the 
mercy of the waves, and is knocked from side to side 
with a force you can form no idea of without expe- 
rience. I have been more wearied and worn out 



212 LETTERS. 

with the motion and exercise of a calm than in rid- 
ing fifty miles in a day. We have had three days 
in succession nearly calm ; the first is the most 
troublesome, as the motion of the sea subsides in a 
degree. It is, however, a great trial of one's pa- 
tience, to think yourself within a few days of your 
desired port, to look at it as the promised land, and 
yet to be held fast ; 

"Ye too, ye winds, I raise my voice to you. 
In what far distant region of the sky, 
Hushed in deep silence, sleep you when 'tis cairn ? " 

I begin to think, that a calm is not desirable in any 
situation in life. Every object is most beautiful in 
motion ; a ship under sail, trees gently agitated with 
the wind, and a fine woman dancing, are three in- 
stances in point. Mctn was made for action and for 
bustle too, I believe. I am quite out of conceit with 
calms. I have more reason for it, too, than many 
others, for the dampness of the ship has for several 
days threatened me with the rheumatism ; and yes- 
terday morning I was seized with it in good earnest. 
I could not raise my head, nor get out of bed with- 
out assistance. I had a good deal of fever, and was 
very sick. I was fearful of this before I came to 
sea, and had proper medicine put up, which the 
doctor administered. What with that, good nursing 
and rubbing, flannel, &c., I am able to-day to sit up 
in my bed and write, as you see. To-day we have 
a small wind, but 't is right ahead. This is still 
mortifying, but what we had reason to expect. Pa- 



LETTERS. 213 

tience, patience, patience, is the first, second, and 
third virtue of a seaman, or, rather, as necessary to 
him as to a statesman. Three days' good wind 
would give us land. 

Friday. 

We have another wet, misty day ; the cabin so 
damp that I dare not sit in it ; I am therefore 
obliged, confined as it is, to keep in my own little 
room, and upon my bed. I long for the day which 
will give us land. Esther makes but a poor hand 
at sea. Scarcely a day, but what she is sick some 
part of it. I hope she will be the better for it when 
she gets on shore. We have but one passenger 
whom we should have been willing to have been 
without. I have no particular reason to dislike 
him, as he is studiously complaisant to me ; but 
I know his politeness to me is not personally 
upon my own account, bit because of my con- 
nexion, which gives me importance sufiicient to 
entitle me to his notice. Abby says he is ex- 
actly such a character as Mr. A — . I really think 
there is a striking resemblance. He was always 
inquiring, " Who was such a general ? What was 
his origin and rank in life ? " I have felt a dispo- 
sition to quarrel with him several times, but have 
restrained myself, and only observed to him, mildly, 
that merit, not title, gave a man preeminence in 
our country ; that I did not doubt it was a mortify- 
ing circumstance to the British nobility to find them- 



214 LETTERS. 

selves so often conquered by mechanics and mere 
husbandmen ; but that we esteemed it our glory to 
draw such characters not only into the field, but into 
the Senate ; and I believed no one would deny that 
they had shone in both. All our passengers enjoyed 
this conversation, and the gentleman was civil enough 
to drop the subject ; but the venom spits out very 
often ; yet the creature is sensible and entertaining 
when upon indifferent subjects. He is a haughty 
Scotchman ; he hates the French, and upon all oc- 
casions ridicules them and their country. I fancy, 
from his haughty airs, that his own rank in life has 
not been superior to those whom he affects to de- 
spise. He is not a man of liberal sentiments, and is 
less beloved than any passenger we have on board. 
A man's humor contributes much to the making him 
agreeable or otherwise. Dark and sour humors, 
especially those which have a spice of malevolence 
in them, are vastly disagreeable. Such men have 
no music in their souls. I believe he would hardly 
be so complaisant, if he knew how meanly I thought 
of him ; but he deserves it all ; hi« whole counte- 
nance shows his heart. 

Saturday, 17 July. 

Give me joy, my dear sister ; we have sounded to- 
day and found bottom, fifty-five fathom. We have 
seen, through the course of the day, twenty different 
sail, and spoke with a small boat upon a smuggling 
expedition, which assured us we were within the 
Channel. 



LETTERS. 215 

18 July. 

This day four weeks we came on board. Are 
you not all calculating to-day that we are near the 
land ? Happily, you are not wrong in your conjec- 
tures. I do not despair of seeing it yet before night, 
though our wind is very small and light. The 
captain has just been down to advise us, as the ves- 
sel is so quiet, to get what things we wish to carry 
on shore into our small trunks. He hopes to land 
us at Portsmouth, seventy miles distant from Lon- 
don, to-morrow or next day ; from thence we are to 
proceed, in post-chaises, to London. The ship may 
be a week in the Channel before she will be able to 
get up. 

Deal, 20 July. 
Heaven be praised, I have safely landed upon the 
British coast. How flattering, how smooth the ocean, 
how delightful was Sunday, the 18th of July. We 
flattered ourselves with the prospect of a gentle 
breeze to carry us on shore at Portsmouth, where 
we agreed to land, as going up the Channel always 
proves tedious ; but on Sunday night the wind shifted 
to the southwest, which, upon this coast, is the same 
with our northeast winds. It blew a gale on Sun- 
day night, on Monday and Monday night, equal to 
an equinoctial. We were obliged to carry double- 
reefed topsails only, and what added to our misfor- 
tunes was, that, though we had made land the day 
before, it was so thick that we could not certainly 



216 LETTERS. 

determine what land it was. It is now Tuesday, 
and I have slept only four hours since Saturday 
night, such was the tossing and tumbling on board 
our ship. The captain never left the deck the 
whole time, either to eat or sleep, though they told 
me there was no danger ; nor do I suppose that 
there really was any, as we had sea-room enough. 
Yet, the great number of vessels constantly com- 
ing out of the Channel, and the apprehension of 
being run down, or being nearer the land than 
we imagined, kept me constantly agitated. Added 
to this, I had a violent sick headache. O! what 
would I have given to have been quiet upon the 
land. You will hardly wonder, then, at the joy we 
felt this day in seeing the cliffs of Dover, Dover 
castle, and town. The wind was in some measure 
subsided. It rained, however, and was as squally 
as the month of March ; the sea ran very high ; a 
pilot-boat came on board at about ten o'clock this 
morning. The captain came to anchor with his 
ship in the Downs, and the little town of Deal lay 
before us. Some of the gentlemen talked of going 
on shore with the pilot-boat, and sending for us if 
the wind subsided. The boat was about as large as 
a Charlestown ferry-boat, and the distance from the 
ship about twice as far as from Boston to Charles- 
town ; a shore as bold as Nantasket beach ; no 
wharf, but you must be run right on shore by a 
wave, where a number of men stand to catch hold 
of the boat, and draw it up. The surf ran six feet 



LETTERS. 217 

high, but this we did not know until driven on by a 
wave ; for the pilots, eager to get money, assured 
the gentlemen they could land us safe, without our 
being wet; and, as we saw no prospect of its being 
better through the day, we accordingly agreed to go. 
We were wrapped up and lowered from the ship 
into the boat ; the whole ship's crew eager to assist 
us ; the gentlemen attentive and kind as though we 
were all brothers and sisters. We have spent a 
month together, and were as happy as the sea would 
permit us to be. We set off from the vessel, now 
mounting upon the top of a wave high as a steeple, 
and then so low that the boat was not to be seen. 
I could keep myself up no other way than as one of 
the gentlemen stood braced up against the boat, fast 
hold of me, and I with both my arms round him ; 
the other ladies were held in the same manner, 
whilst every wave gave us a broadside, and finally a 
wave landed us with the utmost force upon the 
beach, the broadside of the boat right against the 
shore, which was owing to the bad management of 
the men, and the high sea. 

(Thus far I had proceeded in my account, when a 
summons to tea prevented my adding more ; since 
which I have not been able to take my pen. Though 
now, at my lodgings in London, I will take up the 
thread where I left it, until the whole ball is un- 
wound. Every particular will be interesting to my 
friends, I presume, and to no others expose this in- 
correct scrawl.) 



219 LETTERS. 

We consequently all pressed upon the side next 
the shore, to get out as quick as possible, which we 
need not have done, if we had known what I after- 
wards found to be the case, that it was the only way 
in which we could be landed, and not, as I at first 
supposed, owing to the bad management of the 
boatmen. We should have sat still for a succession 
of waves to have carried us up higher, but the roar 
of them terrified us all, and we expected the next 
would fill our boat ; so out we sprang, as fast as 
possible, sinking every step into the sand, and look- 
ing like a parcel of Naiads, just rising from the sea. 
A public house was fortunately just at hand, into 
which we thankfully entered, changed our clothing, 
dried ourselves, and, not being able to procure car- 
riages that day, we engaged them for six o'clock the 
next morning, and took lodgings there, all of us, ten 
in number. Mr. Green set off immediately for Lon- 
don ; nobody mourned. We were all glad to retire 
early to rest. For myself, I was so faint and fa- 
tigued, that I could get but little. We rose at five, 
and, our post-chaises being all at the door, we set 
off, in the following order ; Mr. Foster, myself, and 
Esther, in one, Dr. Clark and Abby in the second, 
Colonel Norton, Mrs. Adams and brother, in the 
third, and Mr. Spear and Lieutenant Mellicot brought 
up the rear. Our first stage was eighteen miles, from 
Deal to Canterbury, where we breakfasted ; the 
roads are fine, and a stone a novelty ; I do not re- 
collect to have seen one, except the pavements of 



LETTERS. 219 

Canterbury and other towns, fronrj Deal to London, 
which is seventy-two miles. Vast fields of wheat, 
oats, English beans, and the horse-bean, with hops, 
are the produce of the country through which we 
passed, which is cultivated like a garden down to 
the very edge of the road, and what surprised me 
was that very little was enclosed within fences. 
Hedge fences are almost the only kind you see ; no 
cattle at large without a herdsman ; the oxen are 
small, but the cows and sheep very large, such as I 
never saw before. When we arrive at the end of 
our stage, we discharge the first carriages, and call 
for new ones, which will be ready in a few moments 
after you issue your orders. Call for breakfast, you 
have it, perhaps, in ten minutes for ten people, with 
the best of attendance, and at a reasonable price* 
Canterbury is a larger town than Boston. It con- 
tains a number of old Gothic cathedrals, which are 
all of stone, very heavy, with but few windows, 
which are grated with large bars of iron, and look 
more like jails for criminals, than places designed 
for the worship of the Deity. One would suppose, 
from the manner in which they are guarded, that 
they apprehended devotion would be stolen. They 
have a most gloomy appearance, and really made 
me shudder. The houses, too, have a heavy look, 
being chiefly thatched roofs, or covered with crooked 
brick tiles. Now and then you would see upon the 
road a large wood, looking like a forest, for a whole 
mile, enclosed with a high brick wall, or cemented 



220 LETTERS. 

Stone ; an enormous iron gate would give one a peep, 
as we passed, of a large pile of building, which 
looked like the castles of some of the ancient 
barons ; but, as we were strangers in the country, 
we could only conjecture what they were, and what 
they might have been. We proceeded from Can- 
terbury to Rochester, about fifteen miles, another 
pretty town, not so large as the former. From 
thence to Chatham, where we stopped at a very 
elegant inn to dine. As soon as you drive into the 
yard, you have at these places as many footmen 
round you as you have carriages, who, with their 
politest airs, take down the step of your carriage, 
assist you out, inquire if you want fresh horses or 
carriages ; " Will supply you directly. Sir," is the an- 
swer ; a well-dressed hostess steps forward, making 
a lady-like appearance, and wishes your commands ; 
if you desire a chamber, the chambermaid attends ; 
you request dinner, say in half an hour ; the bill of 
fare is directly brought ; you mark what you wish to 
have, and suppose it to be a variety of fish, fowl, and 
meat, all of which we had, up to eight different 
dishes, besides vegetables. The moment the time 
you stated is out, you will have your dinner upon 
table in as elegant a style as at any gentleman's 
table, with your powdered waiters, and the master 
or mistress always brings the first dish upon table 
in person. But you must know that travelling in a 
post-chaise is what entitles you to all this respect. 
From Chatham we proceeded on our way as fast 



LETTERS. 221 

as possible, wishing to pass Blackheath before dark. 
Upon this road, a gentleman alone in a chaise passed 
us, and very soon a coach before us stopped, and 
there was a hue and cry, " A robbery, a robbery ! " 
The man in the chaise was the person robbed, and 
this in open day with carriages constantly passing. 
We were not a little alarmed, and every one was 
concealing his money. Every place we passed and 
every post-chaise we met was crying out, " A rob- 
bery ! " Where the thing is so common, I was sur- 
prised to see such an alarm. The robber was pursued 
and taken in about two miles, and we saw the poor 
wretch, ghastly and horrible, brought along on foot ; 
his horse ridden by a person who took him, who also 
had his pistol. He looked like a youth of twenty 
only, attempted to lift his hat, and looked despair. 
You can form some idea of my feelings when they 
told him, " Ay, you have but a short time ; the assize 
sits next month ; and then, my lad, you swing." 
Though every robber may deserve death, yet to ex- 
ult over the wretched is what our country is not 
accustomed to. Long may it be free from such 
villanies, and long may it preserve a commiseration 
for the wretched. We proceeded until eight o'clock. 
I was set down at Low's Hotel in Covent Garden, 
the Court end of the town. These lodgings I took 
only for one night, until others more private could be 
procured. As I found Mr. Adams was not here, 
I did not wish such expensive apartments. It was 
the hotel at which he kept, when he resided here. 



322 



LETTERS. 



Mr. Spear set out in quest of Mr. Smith ; but he 
had received intelligence of my coming out with 
Captain Lyde, and had been in quest of me but 
half an hour before at this very place. Mr. Spear 
was obliged to go first to the custom-house, and, 
as good fortune would have it, Mr. Smith and Mr. 
Storer were near it and saw him alight from the 
coach, upon which he informed them of my ar- 
rival. Though a mile distant, they set out upon a 
full run, (they say,) and very soon, to our mutual 
satisfaction, we met in the hotel. " How do you ? " 
and " How do ye ? " " We rejoice to see you here ;" 
and a thousand such kind of inquiries as take place 
between friends, who have not seen each other for a 
long time, naturally occurred. My first inquiry was 
for Mr. Adams. I found that my son had been a 
month waiting for my arrival in London, expecting 
me with Callaghan, but that, upon getting letters by 
him, he returned to the Hague. Mr. Smith had re- 
ceived a letter from his father, acquainting him that 
I had taken passage with Captain Lyde. This intelli- 
gence he forwarded three days before I came, so that 
1 hourly expect either Mr. Adams or Master John. I 
should have mentioned, that Mr. Smith had engaged 
lodgings for me, to which Mr. Storer and he accom- 
panied me this morning, after paying a guinea and a 
half for tea last evening, and lodging and breakfast, a 
coach included, not however to carry me a greater 
distance than from your house to our own. The gen- 
tlemen all took less expensive lodgings than mine, 



LETTERS. 228 

excepting Dr. Clark, who tarried with us. He said 
he would not quit us until we were fixed in our 
present hotel ; the direction to which is " Osborne's 
New Family Hotel, Adelphi, at Mrs. Sheffield's, 
No. 6." Here we have a handsome drawing-room, 
genteelly furnished, and a large lodging-room. We 
are furnished with a cook, chambermaid, waiter, &c., 
for three guineas a week ; but in this is not included 
a mouthful of victuals or drink, all of which is to be 
paid for separately. 

Friday, 24 July. 
I have little time for writing now, I have so 
many visiters. I hardly know how to think myself 
out of my own country, I see so many Americans 
about me. The first persons who called to see me 
after my arrival here, were Mr. Jackson, Mr. Wins- 
low Warren, Mr. Rogers, Mr. Ward Boylston, Mrs. 
Atkinson, and yesterday morning before I had break- 
fasted, (for the fashionable hours of the city had 
taken hold of me, not out of choice but necessity ; 
Miss A. having a hairdresser. I had directed break- 
fast at nine o'clock ; it was ten, however, but those 
were early visiting hours for this fine city, yet,) whilst 
I was breakfasting, who should be announced to me 
but Parson Walter and Mrs. Hallowell ? ^ both ap- 
peared very glad to see me. Mrs. Hallowell treated 
me with her old afiability and engaged me to dine 

1 Persons who left Massachusetts on account of their adherence 
to the British side. 



224 LETTERS. 

with her to-day ; " not," says she, " to a feast, for 
we make none ; but to an unceremonious family 
dinner. Luxury," says she, " is the mode, but we 
know, too, how to practise frugality and economy." 

I am not a little surprised to find dress, unless 
upon public occasions, so little regarded here. The 
gentlemen are very plainly dressed, and the ladies 
much less so than with us. 'T is true, you must put 
a hoop on and have your hair dressed, but a common 
straw hat, no cap, with only a ribbon upon the crown, 
is thought dress sufficient to go into company. Mus- 
lins are much in taste ; no silks but lutestrings worn ; 
but send not to London for any article you want ; 
you may purchase any thing you can name much 
lower in Boston. I went yesterday into Cheapside 
to purchase a few articles, but found every thing 
higher than in Boston. Silks are in a particular 
manner so ; they say, when they are exported, there 
is a drawback upon them which makes them lower 
with us. Our country, alas, our country ! they are 
extravagant to astonishment in entertainments com- 
pared with what Mr. Smith and Mr. Storer tell me 
of this. You will not find at a gentleman's table 
more than two dishes of meat, though invited 
several days beforehand. Mrs. Atkinson went out 
with me yesterday, and Mrs. Hay, to the shops. I 
returned and dined with Mrs. Atkinson, by her in- 
vitation the evening before, in company with Mr. 
Smith, Mrs. Hay, Mr. Appleton. We had a turbot, 
a soup, and a roast leg of lamb, with a cherry pie. 



LETTEES. 225 

I was more gratified by the social, friendly style in 
which I was treated, than if a sumptuous feast had 
been set before me. Mr. Gorham, a Dr. Parker, Mr. 
Bromfield, and a Mr. Murray from the Hague, came 
to see me yesterday morning; and, when I returned 
last evening, I found cards left by a number of gentle- 
men, some of whom I knew, others I did not ; but, 
knowing Mr. Adams, and being Americans, they 
called to make their compliments. Prentice Gushing 
I met with yesterday at Mr. A.'s. I am going to-day 
to see Mr. Gopley's pictures. I am told he has an ex- 
cellent likeness of Mr. Adams. Mr. Murray informed 
me, that he left Mr. Adams last Friday excessively 
anxious for my arrival. He had removed Mr. Du- 
mas and family in expectation of my coming. He 
says, John, with whom he went to the Hague, was 
melancholy when Gallaghan arrived without me, and 
Mr. Adams more so. I have sent to-day by the post, 
to acquaint him with my being here, but hope every 
hour to see him or Master John. 

The wind has prevented the arrival of the post. 
The city of London is pleasanter than I expected ; 
the buildings more regular, the streets much wider, 
and more sunshine than I thought to have found ; 
but this, they tell me, is the pleasantest season to 
be in the city. At my lodgings I am as quiet as at 
any place in Boston ; nor do I feel as if it could be 
any other place than Boston. Dr. Glark visits us 
every day ; says he cannot feel at home anywhere 
else ; declares he has not seen a handsome woman 
15 



226 LETTERS. 

since he came into the city ; that every old woman 

looks like Mrs. H , and every young one Uke — 

like the D — 1. They paint here nearly as much 
as in France, but with more art. The head-dress 
disfigures them in the eye of an American. I have 
seen many ladies, but not one elegant one since I 
came ; there is not to me that neatness in their ap- 
pearance, which you see in our ladies. 

The American ladies are much admired here by 
the gentlemen, I am told, and in truth I wonder not 
at it. O, my country, my country! preserve, pre- 
serve the little purity and simplicity of manners you 
yet possess. Believe me, they are jewels of inesti- 
mable value ; the softness, peculiarly characteristic 
of our sex, and which is so pleasing to the gentle- 
men, is wholly laid aside here for the masculine 
attire and manners of Amazonians. 

This moment a very polite card is delivered me 
from Mrs. Hallowell, desiring me to remove my 
lodgings to her house whilst I continue in London ; 
to which I have replied, with thanks, excusing my- 
self, that I am very well accommodated, and in 
hourly expectation of my son ; not the less obliged, 
however, by her politeness. Mr. Elworthy I have 
not yet seen, though I have had several messages 
from him. This is not owing to inattention in him, 
but to being informed that every thing was done for 
me before my arrival, which I stood in need of. Our 
ship is not yet got up the Channel ; what a time we 
should have had of it, if we had not landed. Mr. 



LETTERS. 227 

Smith expects to sail on Monday or Tuesday ; I shall 
keep open this letter until he goes ; let sister Shaw 
see it, and read such parts as you think proper to 
the rest of our friends ; but do not let it go out of 
your hands. I shall not have time to write to the 
rest of my friends ; they must not think hardly of 
me ; I could only repeat what I have here written, 
and I think it is best to have the whole budget to- 
gether ; besides, Abby writes to all her acquaint- 
ance, which must answer for me. Remember me 
to them all ; first, to my dear and aged parent,^ to 
whom present my duty ; to Dr. Tufts, to my aunt, 
to uncle Quincy, to Mr. Wibird, to all my friends 
and neighbours. 

Sunday Morning, 25 July. 
I went yesterday, accompanied by Mr. Storer and 
Mr. Smith, to Mr. Copley's, to see Mr. Adams's 
picture.^ This, I am told, was taken at the request 
of Mr. Copley, and belongs to him. It is a full- 
length picture, very large, and a very good likeness. 
Before him stands the globe ; in his hand a map of 
Europe ; at a small distance, two female figures, 
representing Peace and Innocence. It is a most 
beautiful painting. From thence, we went to what 
is called Mr. Copley's, exhibition. Here is the 
celebrated picture, representing the death of Lord 

1 The mother of Mr. Adams. 

2 This picture is now in possession of the University at Cam- 
brid 'e. 



228 LETTERS. 

Chatham in the House of Commons ; his three sons 
around him, each with strong expressions of grief 
and agitation in his countenance. Every member 
is crowding round him with a mixture of surprise and 
distress. I saw in this picture, what I have every day 
noticed since I came here, a strong likeness of some 
American or other ; and I can scarcely persuade 
myself that I have not seen this person, that, and the 
other, before, their countenances appear so familiar 
to me, and so strongly mark our own descent. 
There was another painting, which struck me more 
than this. It is the death of Major Pierson, the par- 
ticular account of which I enclose to you. I never 
saw painting more expressive than this. I looked 
upon it until I was faint ; you can scarcely believe 
but you hear the groans of the serjeant, who is 
wounded, and holding the handkerchief to his side, 
whilst the blood streams over his hand. Grief, de- 
spair, and terror are strongly marked, whilst he 
grows pale and faint with loss of blood. The officers 
are holding Major Pierson in their arms, who is 
mortally wounded, and the black servant has lev- 
elled his piece at the officer who killed him. The 
distress in the countenances of the women, who are 
flying, one of whom has a baby in her arms, is 
beautifully represented ; but descriptions of these 
things give you but a faint resemblance of what in 
reality they are. 

From thence I went to see the celebrated Mrs. 
Wright, Messrs. Storer and Smith accompanying 



LETTERS. 229 

US. Upon my entrance, (my name being sent 
up,) she ran to the door, and caught me by the 
hand ; " Why, is it really and in truth Mrs. 
Adams? and that your daughter ? Why, you dear 
soul you, how young you look. Well, I am glad to 
see you. All of you Americans ? Well, I must kiss 
you all." Having passed the ceremony upon me 
and Abby, she runs to the gentlemen. " I make no 
distinction," says she, and gave them a hearty buss ; 
from which we would all rather have been excused, 
for her appearance is quite the slattern. " I love 
everybody that comes from America," says she ; 
" here," running to her desk, " is a card I had from 
Mr. Adams ; I am quite proud of it ; he came to see 
me, and made me a noble present. Dear creature, 
I design to have his head. There," says she, point- 
ing to an old man and woman, who were sitting in 
one corner of the room, " are my old father and 
mother ; don't be ashamed of them because they 
look so. They were good folks ; " (these were their 
figures in wax-work ;) " they turned Quakers, and 
never would let their children eat meat, and that is 
the reason we were all so ingenious ; you had heard 
of the ingenious Mrs. Wright in America, I sup- 
pose ? " In this manner she ran on for half an hour. 
Her person and countenance resemble an old maiden 
in your neighbourhood, Nelly Penniman, except that 
one is neat, the other the queen of sluts, and her 
tongu • )uns like Unity Badlam's. There was an 
old clergyman sitting reading a paper in the middle 



230 



LETTERS. 



of the room ; and, though I went prepared to see 
strong representations of real life, I was effectually 
deceived in this figure for ten minutes, and was 
finally told that it was only wax. From Mrs. 
Wright's I returned to my hotel, dressed, and at four 
went to dine with Mrs. Hallowell. Mr. H. had in the 
morning been to see me, and Mr. Thomas Boylston, 
both of whom urged me to take up my lodgings 
with Mrs. Hallowell. I chose to decline, but went 
and dined with them. Here I found Parson Walter. 
We had a handsome dinner of salt fish, pea soup, 
boiled fowl and tongue, roast and fried lamb, with a 
pudding and fruit. This was a little in the Boston 
style. Messrs. Smith and Storer dined with us. Mr. 
Hallowell lives handsomely, but not in that splendor 
which he did in Boston.^ On Sunday, I engaged to 
take a coach for the day, which is only twelve-and- 
sixpence sterling, and go to church at the Foundling 
Hospital. Messrs. Atkinson, Smith, and Storer with 
me. 

Monday Morning. 

Well, my dear sister, if you are not tired with 
following me, I will carry you to the Foundling 
Hospital, where I attended divine service yesterday 
morning. Really glad I was that I could, after so 
long an absence, again tread the courts of the Most 
High, and I hope I felt not unthankful for the mer- 
cies I had received. 

1 He was Comptroller of the Customs, under the British Gov- 
ernment, in Boston. 



LETTERS. 231 

This hospital is a large, elegant building, situated 
in a spot as airy, and much more beautiful than 
Boston Common. The chapel, which is upon the 
second floor, is as large as what is called the Old 
South with us. There is one row of galleries ; upon 
the floor of this chapel there are rows of seats like 
Concert Hall, and the pulpit is a small ornamented 
box, near the centre. There were about two thou- 
sand persons, as near as I could guess, who attended. 
In the gallery, opposite to where I sat, was the 
organ loft; upon each side an alcove, with seats, 
which run up like a pyramid. Here the foundlings 
sat, upon one side the boys, upon the other the girls, 
all in uniform ; none appeared under five, nor any 
older than twelve. About three hundred attended 
the service. The uniform of the boys was a brown 
cloth, with a red collar, and a red stripe upon the 
shoulder. The girls were in brown, with a red gir- 
dle round the waist, a checked stomacher and apron ; 
sleeves turned up, and white cloth caps with a 
narrow lace, clean and neat as wax; their govern- 
esses attended with them. They performed the 
vocal music ; one man and woman upon each side 
the organ, who sung an anthem ; both blind, and 
educated at this foundling hospital. When we came 
down, we went into the dining-rooms, which were 
upon each side of the ascent into the chapel ; iiere 
the tables were all arranged, and the little creatures 
curtseying and smiling; some as sweet children as 
ever you saw. There is an inscription over the 



232 



LETTERS. 



door, in gold letters ; " Can a mother forget her suck- 
ing child," &c. In a hall are placed the pictures 
of many noted benefactors and founders of this in- 
stitution. (I should have mentioned that the chapel 
windows are painted glass ; the arms and names of 
the most distinguished benefactors are in the differ- 
ent squares of the glass.) We were shown into 
their bed-chambers, which are long, airy chambers, 
with ten or fifteen windows in each, and about fifty 
or sixty beds, placed in rows upon each side, cov- 
ered with blue and white furniture check. At the 
head of the chamber is a bed for the governess. 
When you have seen one of them, you have a speci- 
men of the whole. 

I dined with Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson, in company 
with Messrs. Jackson, Smith, &c. Mr. Atkinson is a 
very modest, worthy man, and Mrs. Atkinson a most 
amiable woman. You see no parade, no ceremony. 
I am treated with all the kindness of a sister, in as 
easy a way as I could wish. As I took the carriage 
for the day, after forenoon service, we rode out to 
see Mrs. Atkinson's twins, who are at nurse at 
Islington, about two miles from the city. It is a 
fine ride. We went through a number of the great 
squares. Portland Square is one of the finest. In 
short, the representations, which you and I amused 
ourselves with looking at not long ago, are very 
near the life. When we returned, we dined, and at 
six o'clock went to the Magdalen Hospital, which is 
three miles from where I dined ; for this is a mon- 



LETTERS. 233 

strolls great city. We were admitted with a ticket. 
Tiiis assembly was very full and crowded. Yet no 
children or servants are admitted. In short, I begin 
to hope that this people are more serious and re- 
ligious than I feared they were. There is great 
decorum and decency observed. Here are only 
two small galleries, which hold the unhappy beings 
who are the subjects of this merciful institution. 
Those who attend the service are placed upon seats 
below, like Concert Hall. The building is about as 
larire ao;ain as Braintree church, in a most deli<>;ht- 
ful situation, surrounded by weeping willows. All 
the public buildings here have large open spaces 
around them, except those churches which are in 
the heart of the city. I observed, upon going in, a 
gallery before me, raised very high, and covered 
with green canvass. Here sat these unhappy 
women, screened from public view. You can dis- 
cern them through the canvass, but not enough to 
distinguish countenances. I admired the delicacy 
of this thought. The singing was all performed by 
these females, accompanied with the organ ; the 
melancholy melody of their voices, the solemn 
sound of the organ, the serious and affecting dis- 
course of the preacher, together with the humili- 
ating objects before me, drew tears from my eyes. 
The chapel to these apartments is always in the 
heart of the building; the dining, working, and 
lodging apartments surround them. 

Keturned about eight o'clock ; found many cards 



234 LETTERS. 

left for me ; some from Virginians, some from 
Marylanclers, some from Connecticut. Colonel 
Trumbull has called twice upon me, but I was so 
unfortunate as not to be at home. Amongst the 
Americans who called yesterday to see me during 
my absence, was Mr. Joy. He left his name and 
direction, with a polite billet, inviting me to dine 
with him on Tuesday, if I was not engaged ; and, if 
I was, the first day I was disengaged. I have re- 
phed to him that I will wait upon him on Wednes- 
day. Invited by Mr. Murray to the play this 
evening ; declined going, in hopes my best friend 
will be here to attend me very soon ; besides, have 
no clothes yet which will do. No mail from Hol- 
land yet arrived ; the wind has been so contrary 
^vthat two are now due. Dr. Clark, our constant and 
daily visiter, is just come in to drink tea with me. 
Messrs. Smith and Storer are here great part of the 
day. Captain Lyde did not get up the Channel 
until Sunday, so that I have no occasion to repent 
landing when I did ; contrary winds and bad weath- 
er prevented his coming up only with the tide ; his 
vessel, too, had like to have been sunk by a col- 
lier running foul of him. They did him a good 
deal of damage ; these are vessels that take plea- 
sure in injuring others. He told me many dismal 
stories about coming up the Channel, which made 
me determined to land at any rate. 

On Saturday, Mr. Elworthy called upon me, and 
tendered me any service I could wish for. I thank- 



LETTERS. 235 

ed him, but Messrs. Smith and Storer and Dr. Clark 
render any other assistance unnecessary, as any 
and all of them are ready and willing to oblige me. 
On Sunday morning, Mr. and Mrs. Elworthy came 
to see me. She is a very agreeable woman, and looks 
like one of us, that is, she had more of our Ameri- 
can neatness about her than any lady I have seen ; 
for I am yet so impolite as not to be reconciled to 
the jaunty appearance and the elegant stoop. There 
is a rage of fashion which prevails here with des- 
potic sway ; the color and kind of silk must be attend- 
ed to, and the day for putting it on and off; no fancy 
to be exercised, but it is the fashion, and that is argu- 
ment sufficient to put one in or out of countenance. 
I am coming on half-way. I breakfast at nine, and 
dine at three, when at home ; but I rise at six. I am ^ 
not obliged to conform in that ; the other hours I am 
forced to submit to, upon account of company. This 
morning. Dr. Clark and Colonel Trumbull are to 
breakfast with me. I long for the hour, when I shall 
set off for the Hague, or see Mr. Adams here. I 
meet with so many acquaintances, that I shall feel 
loth to quit the city upon that account. There 
are no Americans in Holland, and the language will 
prevent any sociability but what I find in my own 
family ; but, having a house, garden, and servants 
at command, feeling at home will in some measure 
compensate for the rest. I have a journey of eighty 
miles to make, to Margate, before I can embark ; 
and, as soon as Mr. Jefferson arrives, I suppose we 



236 LETTERS. 

must go to France. I have not executed your orders 
with regard to satin, because, upon inquiry, I find 
you can buy cheaper with you. 1 have not found 
any thing, except shoes, that are lower ; such a satin 
as my black, you must give as much sterling for a 
yard, as I gave lawful money; — no silks but lute- 
string, and those which are thinner, are worn at this 
season ; — mode cloaks, muslin and sarsnet, — gauze 
hats, bonnets, and ribbons, — every thing as light 
and thin as possible, — different gowns and skirts, — 
muslin skirts, flounced chintz, with borders white, 
with a trimming that looks like gartering ; — the silk, 
which is most in taste, is what is called " new -mown 
hay," — the pattern I enclose ; and this part of the 
letter is for the tasty folks of my acquaintance. Mr. 
^ Smith brings home a specimen of the newest 
fashioned hats. 

Tuesday Morning. 

Determined to tarry at home to-day, and see com- 
pany. Mr. Joy came in and spent an hour. He is 
the same pleasing man you formerly knew him ; 
that bashful diffidence is supplied by manly confi- 
dence, and acquaintance with the world has given 
ease and politeness to his manners. He really is 
quite the accomplished gentleman, bears a very good 
character, has made a great deal of money, and 
married a Yorkshire lady of handsome fortune 
about three months since. He again repeated his 
invitation to me to dine with him, accompanied by 



LETTERS. 237 

Mr. Smith. To-morrow, I go. Many gentlemen 
have called upon me this forenoon, so that I have 
only time to dress before dinner, which I order at an 
earlier hour than the London fashion. At three is 
my hour, and breakfast at nine. I cannot dine 
earlier, because from nine till three I am subject 
to company. From the hours of three till five and 
six, I am generally alone, or only Mr. Smith or Mr. 
Storer here, to whom I am never denied. The ser- 
vant will frequently come and ask me if I am at 
Lome. 

Wednesday. 

I have walked out to-day, for the first time, and a 
jaunt Mr. Storer has led me. I shall not get the 
better of it for a week. The walking is very easy 
here, the sides of the street being wholly of flat 
stones; and the London ladies walk a great deal, and 
very fast. My walk out and in was only four miles; 
judge you then, what an effect it had upon me. I 
was engaged to dine out. I got home at one, but 
was obliged to lie upon the bed an hour, and have 
not recovered from it yet. 

At four, I was obliged to go out. Mr. Joy lives 
three miles from where I lodge. The house in which 
he lives is very elegant, not large, but an air of taste 
and neatness is seen in every apartment. We were 
shown into the drawing-room, where he awaited us 
at the door, and introduced us to his lady and her 
sister. She is quite young, delicate as a lily, modest 



238 



LETTERS. 



and diffident, not a London lady by any means. 
After we had dined, which was in company with 
five American gentlemen, we retired to the drawing- 
room, and there I talked off the lady's reserve, and 
she appeared ag •< i ble. Her dress pleased me, 
and answered to the universal neatness of the apart- 
ments, furniture, and entertainment. It was a deli- 
cate blue and white copper-plate calico, with a blue 
lutestring skirt, flounced ; a muslin apron and hand- 
kerchief, which are much more worn than gauze ; 
her hair, a fine black, dressed without powder, with 
a fashionable cap, and straw ribbons upon her head 
and breast, with a green morocco slipper. Our din- 
ner consisted of fried fish of a small kind, a boiled 
ham, a fillet of veal, a pair of roast ducks, an al- 
mond pudding, currants and gooseberries, which in 
tl is country are very fine. Printed muslin is much 
worn here ; a straw hat with a deep crown, lined, 
and a white, green, or any colored ribbon you choose. 
I returned, and found a number of cards left by 
gentlemen who had called during my absence. To- 
morrow I am invited to dine again whh Mr. Atkinson 
and lady. I feel almost ashamed to go again, but, 
not being otherwise engaged, they insist upon it. It 
is a thanksgiving day for the peace. I design to 
hear Mr. Duche, who officiates at the Asylum or 
Orphan House. 

Thursday. 

I found myself so unwell, that I could not venture 



LETTERS. 239 

to-day into a crowded assembly. My walk yester- 
day gave me a pain in my head, and stiffened me so 
that I can scarcely move. Abby, too, has the Lon- 
don cold, which they say everybody experiences, 
who comes here ; but Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson would 
not excuse my dining with them, and Charles came 
for us. We went, and found the same friendly, 
hospitable attention, — nothing more on account of 
the day, — a neat, pretty dinner, consisting of two 
dishes and vegetables. After dinner, returned the 
visit of Mr. and Mrs. Elworthy, who were very glad 
to see me. Mr. Elworthy carried us to Drapers' 
Hall. This is a magnificent building, belonging to 
a company of that people, to which is a most 
beautiful garden. To walk in some of these places, 
you would think yourself in a land of enchantment. 
It would just suit my dear Betsey's romantic fancy. 
Tell her I design very soon to write to her. It shall 
be a description of some pretty scene at the Hague ; 
and Lucy shall have a Parisian letter ; but, writing 
to one, I think I am writing to you all. 

Friday. 

To-day, my dear sister, I have determined upon 
tarrying at home, in hopes of seeing my son 
or his papa ; but, from a hint dropped by Mr. Mur- 
ray, I rather think it will be my son, as political 
reasons will prevent Mr. Adams's journey here. 
Whilst I am writing, a servant in the family runs 
puffing in, as if he were really interested in the mat- 



240 LETTERS. 

ter ; " Young Mr. Adams is come." " Where, where 
is he.?" we all cried out. "In the other house, 
Madam ; he stopped to get his hair dressed." Impa- 
tient enough I was; yet, when he entered, we had so 
many strangers, that I drew back, not really believ- 
ing my eyes, till he cried out, " O, my mamma 
and my dear sister! " Nothing but the eyes, at first 
sight, appeared what he once was. His appearance 
is that of a man, and in his countenance the most 
perfect good humor ; his conversation by no means 
denies his stature. I think you do not approve the 
word feelings^ but I know not what to substitute in 
lieu, or even to describe mine. His siste.r, he says, 
he should have known in any part of the world. 

Mr. Adams chooses I should come to the Hague 
and travel with him from thence ; and says it is the 
first journey he ever looked forward to with pleasure, 
since he came abroad. I wish to set out on Friday ; 
but, as we are obliged to purchase a carriage, and 
many other matters to do. Master John thinks we 
cannot go until the Tuesday after. In the mean 
time, I shall visit the curiosities of the city ; not 
feeling twenty years younger, as my best friend says 
he does, but feeling myself exceedingly matronly, 
with a grown-up son on one hand, and daughter 
upon the other, and, were I not their mother, I would 
say a likelier pair you will seldom see in a summer's 
day. You must supply words where you find them 
wanting, and imagine what I have left unfinished, 
for my letter is swelled to such a bulk that I have 



LETTERS. 241 

not even time to peruse it. Mr. Smith goes to-morrow 
morning, and I must now close, requesting you to 
make the distribution of the little matters I send, as 
directed. Tell Dr. Tufts, my dear and valued uncle 
and friend, that I design to write to him by the next 
vessel. 

Particularly remember me to uncle Quincy, to 
Mrs. Quincy and Nancy, and to all my dear Boston 
friends. Tell Mr. Storer, that Charles is very good 
to me, and that, walking with Abby, the other day, 
she was taken for his wife. Ask him if he consents. 
Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson treat me like a sister. I can- 
not find myself in a strange land. I shall experience 
this, when I get to a country the language of which 
I cannot speak. I sincerely wish the treaty might 
have been concerted here. I have a partiality for 
this country ; but, where my treasure is, there shall 
my heart go. 

I know not when to close ; you must write often 
to me, and get uncle Smith to cover to Mr. Atkinson ; 
then, wherever I am, the letters will come safe. 

Adieu, once more, my dear sister, and believe me 
Most affectionately yours. 

A. A. 



16 



242 LETTERS. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

Auteuil, distant from Paris four miles. > 
5 September, 1784, > 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

It is now the 5th of September, and I have been 
at this place more than a fortnight ; but I have had 
so many matters to arrange, and so much to attend 
to, since I left London, that I have scarcely touched a 
pen. I am now vastly behindhand in many things 
which I could have wished to have written down and 
transmitted to my American friends, some of which 
would have amused, and others diverted them. But 
such a rapid succession of events, or rather occur- 
rences, have been crowded into the last two months 
of my life, that I can scarcely recollect them, much 
less recount them in detail. There are so many of 
my friends, who have demands upon me, and who 
I fear will think me negligent, that I know not which 
to address first. Abby has had less of care upon her, 
and therefore has been very attentive to her pen, 
and I hope will supply my deficiencies. 

Auteuil is a village four miles distant from Paris, and 
one from Passy. The house we have taken is large, 
commodious, and agreeably situated, near the Woods 
of Boulogne, which belong to the King, and which 
Mr. Adams calls his park, for he walks an hour or 
two every day in them. The house is much larger 
than we have need of; upon occasion, forty beds 



LETTERS. 243 

may be made in it. I fancy it must be very cold in 
winter. There are few houses with the privilege 
which this enjoys, that of having the saloon, as it is 
called, the apartment where we receive company, 
upon the first floor. This room is very elegant, and 
about a third larger than General Warren's hall. 
The dining-room is upon the right hand, and the 
saloon upon the left, of the entry, which has large 
glass doors opposite to each other, one opening into 
the court, as they call it, the other into a large and 
beautiful garden. Out of the dining-room you pass 
through an entry into the kitchen, which is rather 
small for so large a house. In this entry are stairs 
which you ascend, at the top of which is a long gal- 
lery fronting the street, with six windows, and, oppo- 
site to each window, you open into the chambers, 
which all look into the garden. 

But with an expense of thirty thousand livres in 
looking-glasses, there is no table in the house better 
than an oak board, nor a carpet belonging to the 
house. The floors I abhor, made of red tiles in the 
shape of Mrs. Quincy's floor-cloth tiles. These 
floors will by no means bear water, so that the 
method of cleaning them is to have them waxed, 
and then a man-servant with foot brushes drives 
round your room, dancing here and there like a 
Merry Andrew. This is calculated to take from 
your foot every atom of dirt, and leave the room in 
a few moments as he found it. The house must be 
exceedingly cold in winter. The dining-rooms, of 



244 LETTERS. 

which you make no other use, are laid with small 
stones, like the red tiles for shape and size. The ser- 
vants' apartments are generally upon the first floor, 
and the stairs which you commonly have to ascend 
to get into the family apartments are so dirty, that I 
have been obliged to hold up my clothes, as though 
I was passing through a cow-yard. 

I have been but little abroad. It is customary in 
this country for strangers to make the first visit. As 
I cannot speak the language, I think I should make 
rather an awkward figure. I have dined abroad 
several times with Mr. Adams's particular friends, 
the Abbes, who are very polite and civil, three sensi- 
ble and worthy men. The Abbe de Mably has 
lately published a book, which he has dedicated to 
Mr. Adams. This gentleman is nearly eighty years 
old ; the Abbe Chalut, seventy-five ; and Arnoux, 
about fifty, a fine, sprightly man, who takes great 
pleasure in obliging his friends. Their apart- 
ments were really nice. I have dined once at 
Dr. Franklin's, and once at Mr. Barclay's, our con- 
sul, who has a very agreeable woman for his wife, 
and where I feel like being with a friend. Mrs. Bar- 
clay has assisted me in my purchases, gone with me 
to different shops, &c. To-morrow I am to dine at 
Monsieur Grand's ; but I have really felt so happy 
within doors, and am so pleasingly situated, that I 
have had little inclination to change the scene. I 
have not been to one public amusement as yet, not 
even the opera, though we have one very near us. 



LETTERS. 245 

You may easily suppose I have been fully employ- 
ed, beginning house-keeping anew, and arranging 
my family to our no small expense and trouble ; for 
I have had bed-linen and table-linen to purchase and 
make, spoons and forks to get made of silver, three 
dozen of each, besides tea furniture, china for the 
table, servants to procure, &c. The expense of 
living abroad, I always supposed to be high, but my 
ideas were nowise adequate to the thing. I could 
have furnished myself in the town of Boston, with 
every thing I have, twenty or thirty per cent, cheap- 
er than I have been able to do it here. Every thing 
which will bear the name of elegant, is imported 
from England, and, if you will have it, you must pay 
for it, duties and all. I cannot get a dozen hand- 
some wine-glasses under three guineas, nor a pair of 
small decanters for less than a guinea and a half. 
The only gauze fit to wear is English, at a crown a 
yard ; so that really a guinea goes no further than a 
copper with us. For this house, garden, stables, &c., 
we give two hundred guineas a year. Wood is two 
guineas and a half per cord ; coal, six livres the bas- 
ket of about two bushels ; this article of firing, we 
calculate at one hundred guineas a year. The dif- 
ference between coming upon this negotiation to 
France and remaining at the Hague, where the house 
was already furnished at the expense of a thousand 
pounds sterling, will increase the expense here to six 
or seven hundred guineas ; at a time, too, when Con- 
gress have cut off* five hundred guineas from what 



246 LETTERS. 

they have heretofore given. For our coachman and 
horses alone, (Mr. Adams purchased a coach in 
England,) we give fifteen guineas a month. It is 
the policy of this country to oblige you to a certain 
number of servants, and one will not touch what be- 
longs to the business of another, though he or she 
has time enough to perform the whole. In the first 
place, there is a coachman who does not an indi- 
vidual thing but attend to the carriages and horses ; 
then the gardener, who has business enough ; then 
comes the cook ; then the maUre dViCtel ; his business 
is to purchase articles in the family, and oversee, 
that nobody cheats but himself; a valet de chamhre^ 

— John serves in this capacity ; dife?n7ne de chamire, 

— Esther serves in this line, and is worth a dozen 
others ; a coiffeuse, — for this place, I have a French 
girl about nineteen, whom I have been upon the 
point of turning away, because Madame will not 
brush a chamber ; " it is not de fashion, it is not her 
business." I would not have kept her a day longer, 
but found, upon inquiry, that I could not better my- 
self, and hair-dressing here is very expensive, unless 
you keep such a madam in the house. She sews 
tolerably well, so I make her as useful as I can. 
She is more particularly devoted to Mademoiselle. 
Esther diverted me yesterday evening, by telling 
me that she heard her go muttering by her chamber 
door after she had been assisting Abby in dressing. 
" Ah, mon Dieu, 't is provoking," — (she talks a little 
English.) — " Why, what is the matter, Pauline, what 



LETTERS. 247 

is provoking?" — " Why, Mademoiselle look so pret- 
ty, I, so mauvais." There is another indispensable 
servant, who is called afroftcur ; his business is to 
rub the floors. 

We have a servant who acts as maitre dViotel, 
whom I like at present, and who is so very gracious 
as to act as footman too, to save the expense of 
another servant, upon condition that we give him a 
gentleman's suit of clothes in lieu of a livery. 
Thus, with seven servants and hiring a charwoman 
upon occasion of company, we may possibly make 
out to keep house ; with less, we should be hooted at 
as ridiculous, and could not entertain any company. 
To tell this in our own country, would be considered 
as extravagance ; but would they send a person here 
in a public character to be a public jest ? At lodg- 
ings in Paris last year, during Mr. Adams's negotia- 
tions for a peace, it was as expensive to him as it is 
now at house-keeping, without half the accommo- 
dations. 

Washing is another expensive article ; the servants 
are all allowed theirs, besides their wages ; our own 
costs us a guinea a week. I have become steward 
and book-keeper, determined to know with accuracy 
what our expenses are, and to prevail with Mr. 
Adams to return to America, if he finds himself 
straitened, as I think he must be. Mr. Jay went 
home because he could not support his family here 
with the whole salary ; what then can be done, cur- 
tailed as it now is, with the additional expense ? Mr. 



248 LETTERS. 

Adams is determined to keep as little company as he 
possibly can, but some entertainments we must make, 
and it is no unusual thing for them to amount to 
fifty or sixty guineas at a time. More is to be per- 
formed by way of negotiation, many times, at one 
of these entertainments, than at twenty serious con- 
versations ; but the policy of our country has been, 
and still is, to be penny-wise and pound-foolish. 
We stand in sufficient need of economy, and, in the 
curtailment of other salaries, I suppose they thought 
it absolutely necessary to cut off their foreign min- 
isters. But, my own interest apart, the system is 
bad ; for that nation which degrades their own min- 
isters by obliging them to live in narrow circum- 
stances, cannot expect to be held in high estimation 
themselves. We spend no evenings abroad, make 
no suppers, attend very few public entertainments, or 
spectacles, as they are called, and avoid every ex- 
pense that is not held indispensable. Yet I cannot 
but think it hard, that a gentleman who has devoted 
so great a part of his life to the service of the 
public, who has been the means, in a great meas- 
ure, of procuring such extensive territories to his 
country, who saved their fisheries, and who is still 
laboring to procure them further advantages, should 
find it necessary so cautiously to calculate his 
pence, for fear of overrunning them. I will add 
one more expense. There is now a Court mourn- 
ing, and every foreign minister, with his family, 
must s^o into mourning for a Prince of eight years 



LETTERS. 249 

old, whose father is an ally to the King of France. 
This mourning is ordered by the Court, and is to be 
worn eleven days only. Poor Mr. Jefferson had to 
hie away for a tailor to get a whole black silk suit 
made up in two days ; and at the end of eleven days, 
should another death happen, he will be obliged to 
have a new suit of mourning, of cloth, because that 
is the season when silk must be left off. We may 
groan and scold, but these are expenses which can- 
not be avoided ; for fashion is the deity every one 
worships in this country, and, from the highest to the 
lowest, you must submit. Even poor John and 
Esther had no comfort amongst the servants, being 
constantly the subjects of. their ridicule, until we were 
obliged to direct them to have their hair dressed. 
Esther had several crying fits upon the occasion, 
that she should be forced to be so much of a fool ; 
but there was no way to keep them from being 
trampled upon but this ; and, now that they are a la 
mode de Paris, they are much respected. To be 
out of fashion is more criminal than to be seen in a 
state of nature, to which the Parisians are not averse. 
Sunday here bears the nearest resemblance to 
our Commencement and Election days ; every thing 
is jollity, and mirth, and recreation. But, to quit 
these subjects, pray tell me how you all do. I 
long to hear from you. House and garden, with 
all its decorations, are not so dear to me as my own 
Httle cottage, connected with the society I used there 
to enjoy ; for, out of my own family, I have no at- 



250 



LETTERS. 



tachments in Europe, nor do I think I ever shall 
have. As to the language, I speak it a little, bad 
grammar and all ; but I have so many French ser- 
vants, that I am under a necessity of trying. 

Could you, my sister, and my dear cousins, come 
and see me as you used to do, walk in the garden, 
and delight yourselves in the alcoves and arbours, 
I should enjoy myself much better. When Mr. 
Adams is absent, I sit in my little writing-room, or 
the chamber I have described to Betsey, and read 
or sew. Abby is for ever at her pen, writing or 
learning French ; sometimes company, and some- 
times abroad, we are fully employed. 

Who do you think dined with us the other day ? 
A Mr. Mather and his lady, son of Dr. Mather, and 
Mrs. Hay, who have come to spend the winter in 
France. I regret that they are going to some of 
the provinces. To-day, Mr. Tracy, Mr. Williams, 
Mr. Jefferson, and Colonel Humphreys are .to dine 
with us ; and one day last week we had a company 
of twenty-seven persons ; Dr. Franklin, Mr. Hartley 
and his secretaries, &c. &c. But my paper warns 
me to close. Do not let anybody complain of me. 
I am going on writing to one after another as fast 
as possible, and, if this vessel does not carry the 
letters, the next will. Give my love to one of the 
best men in the world. 

Affectionately yours, 

A. A. 



LETTERS. 251 



TO MISS LUCY' CRANCH. 

Auteuil, 5 September, 1781. 

MY DEAR LUCY, 

I PROMISED to write to you from the Hague, but 
your uncle's unexpected arrival at London prevented 
me. Your uncle purchased an excellent travelling 
coach in London, and hired a post-chaise for our 
servants. In this manner we travelled from London 
to Dover, accommodated through England with the 
best of horses, postilions, and good carriages ; 
clean, neat apartments, genteel entertainment, and 
prompt attendance. But no sooner do you cross 
from Dover to Calais, than every thing is reversed, 
and yet the distance is very small between them. 

The cultivation is by no means equal to that of 
England ; the villages look poor and mean, the 
houses all thatched, and rarely a glass window in 
them ; their horses, instead of being handsomely 
harnessed, as those in England are, have the ap- 
pearance of so many old cart-horses. Along you 
go, with seven horses tied up with ropes and chains, 
rattling like trucks ; two ragged postilions, mount- 
ed, with enormous jack-boots, add to the comic 
scene. And this is the style in which a duke or a 
count travels through this kingdom. You inquire of 
me how I like Paris. Why, they tell me I am no 
judge, for that I have not seen it yet. One thing, 
I know, and that is that I have smelt it. If I was 



LETTERS. 

agreeably disappointed in London, I am as much 
disappointed in Paris. It is the very dirtiest place 
I ever saw. There are some buildings and some 
squares, which are tolerable ; but in general the 
streets are narrow, the shops, the houses, inelegant 
and dirty, the streets full of lumber and stone, with 
which they build. Boston cannot boast so elegant 
public buildings ; but, in every other respect, it is as 
much superior in my eyes to Paris, as London is to 
Boston. To have had Paris tolerable to me, I should 
not have gone to London. As to the people here, 
they are more given to hospitality than in England, 
it is said. I have been in company with but one 
French lady since I arrived ; for strangers here 
make the first visit, and nobody will know you until 
you have waited upon them in form. 

This lady I dined with at Dr. FrankUn's. She 
entered the room with a careless, jaunty air ; upon 
seeing ladies who were strangers to her, she bawled 
out, " Ah ! mon Dieu, where is Franklin ? Why 
did you not tell me there were ladies here ? " You 
must suppose her speaking all this in French. 
" How I look ! " said she, taking hold of a chemise 
made of tiffany, which she had on over a blue lute- 
string, and which looked as much upon the decay 
as her beauty, for she was once a handsome wo- 
man ; her hair was frizzled ; over it she had a small 
straw hat, with a dirty gauze half-handkerchief 
round it, and a bit of dirtier gauze, than ever my 
maids wore, was bowed on behind. She had a black 



LETTERS. 253 

gauze scarf thrown over her shoulders. She ran 
out of the room ; when she returned, the Doctor 
entered at one door, she at the other ; upon which 
she ran forward to hhn, caught him by the hand, 
'' Helas ! FrankUn ; " then gave him a double kiss, 
one upon each cheek, and another upon his fore- 
head. When we went into the room to dine, she 
was placed between the Doctor and Mr. Adams. 
She carried on the chief of the conversation at 
dinner, frequently locking her hand into the Doc- 
tor's, and sometimes spreading her arms upon the 
backs of both the gentlemen's chairs, then throwing 
her arm carelessly upon the Doctor's neck. 

I should have been greatly astonished at this 
conduct, if the good Doctor had not told me that in 
this lady I should see a genuine Frenchwoman, 
wholly free from affectation or stiffness of behaviour, 
and one of the best women in the world. For this 
I must take the Doctor's word ; but I should have 
set her down for a very bad one, although sixty 
years of age, and a widow. I own I was highly 
disgusted, and never wish for an acquaintance with 
any ladies of this cast. After dinner she threw 
herself upon a settee, where she showed more than 
her feet. She had a little lap-dog, who was, next 
to the Doctor, her favorite, and whom she kissed. 
This is one of the Doctor's most intimate friends, 
with whom he dines once every week, and she 
with him. She is rich, and is my near neigh- 
bour ; but I have not yet visited her. Thus you 



254 LETTERS. 

see, my dear, that manners differ exceedingly in 
different countries. I hope, however, to find amongst 
the French ladies manners more consistent with my 
ideas of decency, or I shall be a mere recluse. 

You must write to me, and let me know all about 
you ; marriages, births, and preferments ; every 
thing you can think of. Give my respects to the 
Germantown family. I shall begin to get letters 
for them by the next vessel. 

Good night. Believe me 

Your most affectionate aunt, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

Auteuil, 9 December, 1784. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

Your letter by way of Amsterdam had a quick 
passage, and was matter of great pleasure to me. 
I thank you for all your kind and friendly commu- 
nications, by which you carry my imagination back 
to my friends and acquaintance, who were never 
dearer to me than they now are, though so far 
distant from me. 

I have really commiserated the unhappy refugees 
more than ever, and think no severer punishment 
need to be inflicted upon any mortals than that of 
banishment from their country and friends. Were 
it my case, I should pray for death and oblivion. 
The consolation which Bolingbroke comforted him- 



LETTERS. 255 

self with would afford me little satisfaction ; for, 
though the same heavens were spread over me, 
and the same sun enlightened me, I should see the 
heavens covered with darkness, and the sun bereft 
of its splendor. 

We reside here at this village, four miles distant 
from Paris. It is a very agreeable summer situa- 
tion, but in winter I should prefer Paris, on many- 
accounts ; but upon none more than that of society. 
The Americans who are in France, and with whom 
I have any acquaintance, all reside in Paris ; they 
would frequently fall in and spend an evening with 
us ; but to come four miles, unless by particular 
invitation, is what they do not think of ; so that our 
evenings, which are very long, are wholly by our- 
selves. You cannot wonder that we all long for the 
social friends whom we left in America, whose 
places are not to be supplied in Europe. I wish 
our worthy and sensible parson would visit us as he 
used to do in America ; his society would be very 
precious to us here. 

I go into Paris sometimes to the plays, of which 
I am very fond ; but I so severely pay for it, that I 
refrain many times upon account of my health. It 
never fails giving me a severe headache, and that in 
proportion as the house is thin or crowded, one, two, 
or three days after. We make it a pretty general 
rule to entertain company once a week. (I do not 
call a transient friend or acquaintance dining, by 
that name.) Upon those occasions, our company 



256 LETTERS. 

consists of fifteen, eighteen, or twenty, which com- 
monly costs us as many guineas as there are per- 
sons. You will naturally be surprised at this, as I 
was when I first experienced it ; but my weekly 
bills, all of which pass through my hands, and are 
paid by me, convinced me of it. Every American 
who comes into Paris, no matter from what State, 
makes his visit, and pays his respects, to the Ameri- 
can ministers ; all of whom, in return, you must dine. 
Then there are the foreign ministers, from the dif- 
ferent courts, who reside here, and some French 
gentlemen. In short, there is no end of the expense, 
which a person in a public character is obliged to 
be at. Yet our countrymen think their ministers 
are growing rich. Believe me, my dear sister, I 
am more anxious for my situation than I was before 
I came abroad. I then hoped that my husband, in 
his advanced years, would have been able to have 
laid up a little without toiling perpetually ; and, had 
I been with him from the first, he would have done 
it when the allowance of Congress was more lib- 
eral than it now is ; but cutting off five hundred 
[guineas] at one blow, and at the same time in- 
creasing our expenses, by removing us from place 
to place, is more than we are able to cope with, and 
I see no prospect but we must be losers at the end 
of the year. We are now cleverly situated. I have 
got a set of servants as good as I can expect to find ; 
such as I am pretty well satisfied with ; but I ap- 
prehend, that, in the month of January, we shall be 



LETTERS. 257 

obliged to give up our house, dismiss our servants, 
and make a journey to England. This is not yet 
fully agreed upon ; but, I suppose the next letters 
from the Court of England will determine it ; and 
this has been Mr. Adams's destiny ever since he 
came abroad. His health, which has suffered great- 
ly in the repeated attacks of the fevers he has had, 
obliges him to live out of cities. You cannot pro- 
cure genteel lodgings in Paris under twenty-five or 
thirty guineas a month ; which is much dearer than 
we give for this house, besides the comfort of having 
your family to yourself. When I speak of twenty- 
five and thirty guineas per month, not a mouthful 
of food is included. 

As to speaking French, I make but little pro- 
gress in that ; but I have acquired much more fa- 
cility in reading it. My acquaintance with French 
ladies is very small. The Marquise de la Fayette 
was in the country when I first came, and continued 
out until November. Immediately upon her coming 
into Paris, I called and paid my compliments to her. 
She is a very agreeable lady, and speaks English 
with tolerable ease. We sent our servant, as is the 
custom, with our names, into the house, to inquire if 
she was at home. We were informed that she was 
not. The carriage was just turning from the door, 
when a servant came running out to inform us that 
Madame would be glad to see us ; upon which Mr. 
Adams carried me in and introduced me. The 
Marquise met me at the door, and with the freedom 
17 



258 



LETTERS. 



of an old acquaintance, and the rapture peculiar to 
the ladies of this nation, caught me by the hand and 
gave me a salute upon each cheek, most heartily 
rejoiced to see me. You would have supposed I 
had been some long absent friend, whom she dearly 
loved. She presented me to her mother and sister, 
who were present with her, all sitting together in 
he b room, quite en famille. One of the ladies 
was knitting. The Marquise herself was in a chintz 
gown. She is a middle-sized lady, sprightly and 
agreeable ; and professes herself strongly attached 
to Americans. She supports an amiable charac- 
ter, is fond of her children, and very attentive to 
them, which is not the general character of ladies 
of high rank in Europe. In a few days, she re- 
turned my visit, upon which we sent her a card of 
invitation to dine. She came ; we had a large 
company. There is not a lady in our country, 
who would have gone abroad to dine so little 
dressed ; and one of our fine American ladies, who 
sat by me, whispered to me, " Good Heavens ! how 
awfully she is dressed." I could not forbear re- 
turning the whisper, which I most sincerely de- 
spised, by replying, that the lady's rank sets her 
above the little formalities of dress. She had on a 
brown Florence gown and petticoat, — which is the 
only silk, excepting satins, which are worn here in 
winter, — a plain double gauze handkerchief, a 
pretty cap, with a white ribbon in it, and looked 
very neat. The rouge, 't is true, was not so artfully 



LETTERS. 259 

laid on, as upon the faces of the American ladies 
who were present. Whilst they were glittering 
with diamonds, watch-chains, girdle-buckles, &c., 
the Marquise was nowise ruffled by her own dif- 
ferent appearance. A really well-bred French lady 
has the most ease in her manners, that you can 
possibly conceive of It is studied by them as an 
art, and they render it nature. It requires some 
time, you know, before any fashion quite new be- 
comes familiar to us. The dress of the French 
ladies has the most taste and variety in it, of any 
I have yet seen ; but these are topics I must reserve 
to amuse my young acquaintance with. I have 
seen none, however, who carry the extravagance of 
dress to such a height as the Americans who are 
here, some of whom, I have reason to think, live at 
an expense double what is allowed to the American 
ministers. They must, however, abide the conse- 
quences. 

Mr. Jefferson has been sick, and confined to his 
house for six weeks. He is upon the recovery, 
though very weak and feeble. Dr. Franklin is 
much afflicted with his disorder, which prevents his 
goi g abroad, unless when the weather will permit 
him to walk. 

12 December, 1784. 
"Do you say that Scott has arrived in Eng- 
land ? " said I to my friend, when he returned from 
Paris, " and that Messrs. Tracy and Jackson have 



260 LETTERS. 

received their letters by the post, and that we have 
none ? How can this be ? News, too, of Mr. 
Smith's arrival." Thus passed the day, and the 
next which followed ; but in the evening a letter was 
brought for J. Q. A. from London, from Charles 
Storer, informing us that he had received sundry 
large packets from America ; not being able to find 
a private conveyance, he had sent them by the new 
diligence^ lately set up, which passed once a week 
from Calais to Paris. It was evening. No sending 
in that night, because a servant could not get them. 
There was nothing to be done but to wait patiently 
until the next morning. As soon as breakfast was 
over, the carriage was ordered, and Mr. J. Q. A. 
set off for Paris. About two o'clock he returned, and 
was met with a " Well ; have you found the let- 
ters ? " " Yes, he had heard of them, but could 
not procure them ; they refused to deliver them at 
the post-office, because he had carried no proof that 
the letters belonged to the family ; he might be an 
impostor, for aught they knew, and they were an- 
swerable for them ; he scolded and fretted, but all 
to no purpose ; they finally promised to send them 
out in the evening to our hotel." O how provok- 
ing ! About eight in the evening, however, they 
were brought in and safely delivered, to our great 
joy. We were all together. Mr. Adams in his 
easy-chair upon one side of the table, reading 
Plato's Laws ; Mrs. A. upon the other, reading Mr. 
St. John's " Letters " ; Abby, sitting upon the left 



LETTERS. 261 

hand, in a low chair, in a pensive posture ; — enter 
J. Q. A. from his own room, with the letters in his 
hand, tied and sealed up, as if they were never 
to be read ; for Charles had put half a dozen new 
covers upon them. Mr. A. must cut and undo them 
leisurely, each one watching with eagerness. Fi- 
nally, the originals were discovered ; " Here is one 
for you, my dear, and here is another ; and here, 
Miss Abby, are four, five, upon my word, six, for 
you, and more yet for your mamma. Well, I fancy 
I shall come off but slenderly. One only for me." 
" Are there none for me. Sir ? " says Mr. J. Q. A., 
erecting his head, and walking away a little mor- 
tified. 

We then began to unseal and read ; and a rich 
repast we had. Thank you, my dear sister, for 
your part of the entertainment. I will not regret 
sending my journal, uncouth as I know it was ; to 
friends, who so nearly interest themselves in the 
welfare of each other, every event, as it passes, 
becomes an object of their attention. You will 
chide me, I suppose, for not relating to you an 
event, which took place in London ; that of unex- 
pectedly meeting there my long absent friend ; for, 
from his letters by my son, I had no idea that he 
would come. But you know, my dear sister, that 
poets and painters wisely draw a veil over those 
scenes, which surpass the pen of the one, and the 
pencil of the other. We were, indeed, a very, 
very happy family, once more met together, after a 



262 LETTERS. 

separation of four years. For particular reasons 
we remained but one day in England, after the 
arrival of Mr. A. We set off on Sunday morning, 
as I believe I have before related, in a coach, and 
our two servants in a post-chaise. As we travelled 
over the same part of the country which I had he- 
fore described in my journey up to London, I was 
not particular in relating my journey to Dover. 
We were about twelve hours in crossing to Calais. 

The difference is so great between travelling 
through England and through France, that no per- 
son could possibly imagine that these countries were 
separated only by a few leagues. Their horses, 
their carriages, their postilions, their inns ! I know 
not how to point out the difference, unless you will 
suppose yourself a stranger in your own country, 
first entertained at Mr. Swan's, then at General 
Warren's, and next at Bracket's tavern. Such is 
the difference, I assure you. From Calais to Paris 
you pass through a number of villages, which have 
the most miserable appearance, in general ; the 
houses of the peasants being chiefly low, thatched 
huts, without a single glass window. Their fields 
were well cultivated, and we saw everywhere wo- 
men and children laboring in them. There is not, 
however, that rich luxuriance, which beauteous 
England exhibits, nor have they ornamented their 
fields with the hedge, which gives England a vast 
advantage, in appearance, over this country. The 
place most worthy of notice between Calais and 



LETTERS. 263 

Paris, is Cliantilly, where we stopped one day ; but, 
as I was so much fatigued with my journey, I made 
no minute of what I saw there, though riclily worth 
a particular description. I must, therefore, request 
tlie Aivor of Mr, J. Q. A. to transcribe a few incor- 
rect minutes from his journal, which will give you 
some idea of what we saw there. I have not a wish 
to repeat this journey in the winter season ; but I 
greatly fear we shall be obliged to do so, as England 
does not choose to treat in France. This, however, 
you will not mention at present ; as I cannot yet 
assure you what will be the result of the last de- 
spatches sent to that Court. 

This is the twelfth of December ; and a severer 
snow-storm than the present is seldom seen in our 
country at this season. I was pleased at the ap- 
pearance, because it looked so American ; but the 
poor Frenchman will shrug his shoulders. 

I feel very loth to part with my son, and shall 
miss him more than I can express ; but I am con- 
vinced that it will be much for his advantage to 
spend one year at Harvard, provided he makes, as I 
have no reason to doubt, a suitable improvement of 
his time and talents ; the latter, the partiality of a 
mother would say, no young fellow of his age can 
boast superior ; yet there are many branches of 
knowledge in which he is deficient, and which, I 
think, he will be best able to acquire in his own 
country. I am sure he will acquire them with more 
pleasure to himself, because he will find there com- 



264 LETTERS. 

panions and associates. Besides, America is the 
theatre for a young fellow who has any ambition to 
distinguish himself in knowledge and literature; so 
that, if his father consents, I think it not unlikely 
that you will see him in the course of next summer. 
I hope I shall follow him the next spring. Europe 
will have fewer charms for me then, than it has at 
present. 

I know not how to bid you adieu. You did not 
say a word of uncle Quincy. How does he do ? 
My duty to him ; tell him, if Mr. A. was in Braintree, 
he would walk twice a week to see him. Madam 
Quincy, too, how is she ? My respects to her, 
and to Mr. Wibird, who, I think, misses me as 
much as I do his friendly visits. 

Affectionately yours, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. SHAW. 

Auteuil, 14 December, 1784. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

From the interest you take in every thing which 
concerns your friends, I hear you inquiring how I 
do, how I live, whom I see, where I visit, who 
visit me. I know not whether your curiosity ex- 
tends so far as the color of the house, which is 
white stone, and to the furniture of the chamber 
where I sleep. If it does, you must apply to Betsey 
Cranch for information, whose fancy has employed 



LETTERS. 265 

itself SO busily as to seek for intelligence even in the 
minutio) ; and, although they look trifling upon 
paper, yet," if our friends take an interest in them, 
that renders them important ; and I am the rather 
tempted to a compliance from the recollection, that, 
when I have received a sentimental letter from an 
absent friend, I have passed over the sentiment at 
the first reading, and hunted for that part, which 
more particularly related to themselves. 

This village, where we reside, is four miles from 
Paris, and is famous for nothing, that I know of, but 
the learned men who have inhabited it. Such were 
Boileau, Moliere, D'Aguesseau, and Helvetius. The 
first and last lived near this hotel, and Boileau's 
garden is preserved as a choice relic. As to my 
own health, it is much as usual. I suffer through 
want of exercise, and grow too fat. I cannot per- 
suade myself to walk an hour in the day, in a long 
entry which we have, merely for exercise ; and as 
to the streets, they are continually a quagmire. No 
walking there without boots or wooden shoes, 
neither of which are my feet calculated for. Mr. 
Adams makes it his constant practice to walk sev- 
eral miles every day, without which he would not be 
able to preserve his health, which at best is but in- 
firm. He professes h"mself so much happier for 
having his family v/ith him, that I feel amply grati- 
fied in having ventured across the ocean. He is de- 
termined, that nothing but the inevitable stroke of 
death shall in future separate him at least from one 



266 LETTERS. 

part of it ; so that I know not what climates I may- 
yet have to visit, — more, I fear, than will be agree- 
able to either of us. 

If you want to know the manners and customs of 
this country, I answer you, that pleasure is the busi- 
ness of life, more especially upon a Sunday. We 
have no days with us or rather with you, by which 
I can give you any idea of them, except Commence- 
ments and Elections. We have a pretty wood 
within a few rods of this hou;e, which is called the 
Bois de Boulogne. This is cut into many regular 
walks, and during the summer months, upon Sun- 
days, it looked like Boston and Cambridge Commons 
upon the public days I have mentioned. Paris is a 
horrid dirty city, and I know not whether the in- 
habitants could exist, if they did not come out one 
day in the week to breathe a fresh air. I have sat 
at my window of a Sunday, and seen whole cart- 
loads of them at a time. I speak literally ; for those,, 
who neither own a coach nor are able to hire one, 
procure a cart, which in this country is always 
drawn by horses. Sometimes they have a piece of 
canvass over it. There are benches placed in them, 
and in this vehicle you will see as many well-dressed 
women and children as can possibly pile in, led out 
by a man, or driven. Just at the entrance of the 
wood they descend. The day is spent in music, 
dancing, and every kind of play. It is a very rare 
thing to see a man with a hat anywhere but under 
his arm, or a woman with a bonnet upon her head. 



LETTERS. 267 

This would brush off the powder, and spoil the ele- 
gant toupet. They have a fashion of wearing a 
hood or veil either of gauze or silk. If you send 
for a tailor in this country, your servant will very 
soon introduce to you a gentleman full dressed in 
black, with his head as white as a snow-bank, and 
which a hat never rumpled. If you send to a mantua- 
maker, she will visit you in the same style, with her. 
silk gown and petticoat, her head in ample order, 
though, perhaps, she lives up five pair of stairs, and 
eats nothing but bread and water, as two thirds of 
these people do. We have a servant in our family, 
who dresses more than h s young master, and would 
not be guilty of tending table unfrizzed, upon any 
consideration. He dresses the hair of his young 
master, but has his own dressed by a hair-dresser. 
By the way, I was guilty of a sad mistake in Lon- 
don. I desired the servant to procure me a barber. 
The fellow stared, and was loth to ask for what pur- 
pose I wanted him. At last he said, " You mean a 
hair-dresser. Madam, I believe .?" " Ay," says I, 
" I want my hair dressed," " Why, barbers. Madam, 
in this country, do nothing but shave." 

When I first came to this country, I was loth to 
submit to such an unnecessary number of domestics, 
as it appeared to me, but I soon found that they 
would not let me do without them ; because, every 
one having a fixed and settled department, they 
would not lift a pin out of it, although two thirds of 
the time tiiey had no employment. We are how- 



26S LETTERS. 

ever thankful that we are able to make eight do for 
us, though we meet with some difficuhies for want of 
a ninth. Do not suppose from this, that we Hve 
remarkably nice. I never put up in America with 
what I do here. I often think of Swift's High 
Dutch bride, who had so much nastiness, and so 
much pride. 

Adieu. Most affectionately yours, 

A. A. 



TO THE REVEREND JOHN SHAW. 

Auteuil, 18 January, 1785. 

I FIND, Sir, what I never doubted, that you are 
a gentleman of your word. I thank you for the 
agreeable proof which j^ou have given me of it ; 
and, that I may not be wanting in punctuality, I have 
taken my pen to discharge the debt which I ac- 
knowledge is due to you. 

Amongst the public edifices which are worthy 
of notice in this country, are several churches. 
I went, a few days since, to see three of the most 
celebrated in Paris. They are prodigious masses 
of stone buildings, and so surrounded by houses 
which are seven stories high, that the sun seldom 
enlightens them. I found them so cold and damp, 
that I could only give them a very hasty and tran- 
sient survey. The architecture, the sculpture, the 
paintings, are beautiful indeed, and each of them 
would employ my pen for several pages, when the 



LETTERS. 269 

weather will permit me to take a more accurate 
and critical inspection of them. These churches 
are open every day, and at all times of the day ; so 
that you never enter them without finding priests 
upon their knees, half a dozen at a time, and more 
at the hours of confession. All kinds of people and 
of all ages go in without ceremony, and regardless of 
each other ; fall upon their knees, cross themselves, 
say their Pater-nosters and Ave-Marias silently 
and go out again, without being noticed or even 
seen by the priests, whom I found always kneeling 
with their faces towards the altar. Round these 
churches, (for they have not pews and galleries as 
with us, chairs alone being made use of,) there are 
little boxes or closets about as large as a sentry-box, 
in which is a small grated window, which communi- 
cates with another closet of the same kind. One of 
them holds the person who is confessing, and the 
other the confessor, who places his ear at this win- 
dow, hears the crime, absolves the transgressor, and 
very often makes an assignation for a repetition of 
the same crime, or perhaps a new one. I [do not 
think this a breach of charity ; for can we suppose, 
that, of the many thousands whom the religion of 
the country obliges to celibacy, one quarter part of 
the number can find its influence sufficiently power- 
ful to conquer those passions which nature has im- 
planted in man, when the gratification of them will 
cost them only a few livres in confession ? 

1 was at the Church of St. Roch about ten o'clock 



S70 LETTERS. 

in the morning, and, whilst I was there, ahout three 
hundred little boys came in from some charity semi- 
nary which belongs to that church. They had books 
in their hands. They followed each other in regu- 
lar order, and fell upon their knees in rows Hke 
soldiers in rank and file. There might have 
been fifty other persons in the church at their 
devotion. Every thing was silent and solemn 
throughout this vast edifice. I was walking with a 
slow pace round it, when, all at once, the drear 
silence which reigned was suddenly broken by ail 
these boys at one instant chanting with loud voices, 
which made the dome ring, and me start, for I had 
no apprehension of any sound. I have never been 
to any of these churches upon a Sunday. When the 
weather is warmer, I design it. But their churches 
seem rather calculated to damp devotion than ex- 
cite it. I took such a cold there as I have not had 
since I have been in France. I have been several 
times to the chapel of the Dutch ambassador, and 
should go oftener if I could comprehend the dis- 
courses, which are all in French. I believe the 
American embassy is the only one to which chap- 
lains are not allowed. Do Congress think that their 
ministers have no need of grace ? or that religion 
is not a necessary article for them ? Sunday will 
not feel so to me whilst I continue in ;his country. 
It is high holiday for all France. 

We had a visit the other day from no less a per- 
sonage than Abbe Thayer, in his habis, who iias be- 



LETTERS. 271 

come a convert. His visit was me, I suppose, for 
he was a perfect stranger to Mr. Adams. He told 
us that he had spent a year at Rome, that he belong- 
ed to a seminary of St. Sulpice in Paris, that he 
never knew what religion was, until his conversion, 
and that he designed to return to America in a year 
or two, to see if he could not convert his friends and 
acquaintance. After talking some time in this style, 
he began to question Mr. Adams if he believed the 
Bible, and to rail at Luther and Calvin ; upon which 
Mr. Adams took him up pretty short, and told him 
that he was not going to make a father confessor of 
him, that his religion was a matter that he did not 
look upon himself accountable for to any one but 
his Maker, and that he did not choose to hear either 
Luther or Calvin treated in such a manner. Mr. 
Abbe took his leave after some time, without any 
invitation to repeat his visit. 

I am very truly yours, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. STORER. 



Auteuil, 20 January, 1785. 

MY DEAR MADAM, 

For your kind congratulations upon my arrival in 
Europe, receive my thanks. Those only, who have 

1 This is the same lady to whom the first letter in this volume 
was addressed, and the Editor is indebted for both to the same 
source. See p. 3. 



272 LETTERS. 

crossed the ocean, can realize the pleasure which is 
felt at the sight of land. The inexperienced travel- 
ler is more sensible of this, than those who frequent- 
ly traverse the ocean. I could scarcely realize that 
thirty days had removed me so far distant from my 
native shore ; but the new objects which surrounded 
me did not efface from my remembrance the dearer 
ones which I left behind me. " And is this the coun- 
try, and are these the people, who so lately waged 
a cruel war against us ? " were reflections, which did 
not escape me amidst all the beauty and grandeur, 
which presented themselves to my eyes. You have 
doubtless heard from my friends, that 1 was pleased 
with England, and that I met with much civility and 
politeness there, and a large share of it from your 
connexions. 

I am now resident in a country, to which many 
Americans give the preference. The climate is 
said to be more temperate and mild. 1 can pass no 
judgment by comparison, but that there are more 
fogs in both, than are agreeable to me. A North- 
American, however, has no right to complain of the 
rigor of a climate, which, in the middle of January, 
is as mild as our May ; though I think the fall of 
the year was near as cold as ours. 

Do you know, my dear Madam, what a task you 
have set me .'' a description of ladies ! 

" Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute." 

To a lady of Mrs. Storer's discernment, the mere 
superficial adorning of the sex would afford but little 



LETTERS. 273 

salisfaction. Yet this is all I shall be able to recount 
to her. A stranger in the country, not only to the 
people but to the language, I cannot judge of men- 
tal accomplishment, unless you will allow that dress 
and appearance are the index of the mind. The 
etiquette of this country requires the first visit from 
the stranger. You will easily suppose, that I have 
not been very fond of so awkward a situation as 
going to visit ladies, merely to make my dumb com- 
pliments, and receive them in return. I have declin- 
ed visiting several personages, to whom Mr. Adams 
would have introduced me, upon this account. An 
acquaintance with a gentleman by no means in- 
sures to you a knowledge of his lady ; for no one 
will be so ill-bred as to suppose an intercourse be- 
tween them. It is from my observations of the 
French ladies at the theatres and public walks, that 
my chief knowledge of them is derived. 

The dress of the French ladies is, like their man- 
ners, light, airy, and genteel. They are easy in 
their deportment, eloquent in their speech, their 
voices soft and musical, and their attitude pleasing. 
Habituated to frequent the theatres from their ear- 
liest age, they become perfect mistresses of the art 
of insinuation and the powers of persuasion. In- 
telligence is communicated to every feature of the 
face, and to every limb of the body ; so that it may 
with truth be said, every man of this nation is an 
actor, and every woman an actress. It is not only 
among the rich and polite, wlio attend the great 
18 



274 LETTERS. 

theatres, that this art is acquired, but there are a 
dozen small theatres, to which all classes resort. 
There are frequently given pieces at the opera, and 
at the small theatres, where the actors speak not a 
single word, but where the action alone will delin- 
eate to you the story. I was at one of this kind last 
evening. The story is too long to relate here ; but 
there was a terrible sea-storm in it ; the rolling of 
the sea, the mounting of the vessel upon the waves, 
in which I could discern a lady and little child in the 
utmost distress, the terrible claps of thunder and 
flashes of lightning, which flew from one side of the 
stage to the other, really worked me up to such a 
pitch, that I trembled with terror. The vessel was 
finally dashed upon the rocks, and the lady and 
child were cast on a desert island. 

The dancing on the stage is a great amusement 
to me, and the dresses are beautifully fanciful. The 
fashionable shape of the ladies here is, to be very 
small at the bottom of the waist, and very large 
round the shoulders, — a wasp's, — pardon me, la- 
dies, that I should make such a comparison, it is 
only in shape, that I mean to resemble you to them. 
You and I, Madam, must despair oi being in the 
mode. 

I enclose to you the pattern of a stomacher, cape, 
and forebody of a gown ; different petticoats are 
much worn, and then the stomacher must be of the 
petticoat color, and the cape of the gown, as well as 
the sleeves. Sometimes a false sleeve is made use 



LETTERS. 275 

of to draw over the other, and, in that case, the cape 
is like the gown. Gowns and petticoats are worn 
without any trimming of any kind. That is re- 
served for full dress only, when very large hoops 
and negligees, with trains three yards long, are 
worn. But these are not used, except at Court, 
and then only upon public occasions ; the Queen 
herself, and the ladies of honor, dressing very plain 
upon other days. Abby has made you a miniature 
handkerchief, just to show you one mode ; but caps, 
hats, and handkerchiefs are as various as ladies' 
and milliners' fancies can devise. 

Thus, Madam, having displayed the mode to you, 
be so good as to present Mr. Adams's and my re- 
gards to Mr. Storer, and, in one word, to all who 
ii quire after your affectionate friend, 

A. Adams. 



TO MISS LUCY CRANCH. 

Auteuil, 24 January, 1785. 

MY DEAR LUCY, 

I HOPE you have before now received my letter, 
which was ordered on board with Captain Lyde, 
but put on board another vessel, because it was said 
she would sail first. By that you will see that I did 
not wait to receive a letter from you first. I thank 
you for yours of November 6th, which reached me 
last evening ; and here I am, seated by your cousin 



276 LETTERS. 

J. Q. A.'s fireside, where, by his invitation, I usually 
write. 

And in the first place, my dear Lucy, shall I find 
a little fault with you ? A fault, from which neither 
your good sister, nor cousin Abby, is free. It is, 
that all of you so much neglect your handwriting. 
I know that a sentiment is equally wise and just, 
written in a good or bad hand ; but then there 
is certainly a more pleasing appearance, when the 
lines are regular, and the letters distinct and well 
cut. A sensible woman is so, whether she be hand- 
some or ugly ; but who looks not with most pleasure 
upon the sensible beauty ? " Why, my dear aunt," 
methinks I hear you say, " only look at your own 
handwriting." Acknowledged ; I am very sensible 
of it, and it is from feeling the disadvantages of it 
myself, that I am the more solicitous that my young 
acquaintance should excel me, whilst they have 
leisure, and their fingers are young and flexible. 
Your cousin, J. Q. A., copied a letter for me the 
other day, and, upon my word, I thought there was 
some value in it, from the new appearance it ac- 
quired. 

I have written several times largely to your sister, 
and, as I know you participate with her, I have not 
been so particular in scribbling to every one of the 
family ; for an imagination must be more inventive 
than mine, to supply materials with sufficient variety 
to afford you all entertainment. Through want of a 
better subject, I will relate to you a custom of this 



LETTERS. 277 

country. You must know that the religion of this 
country requires abundance of feasting and fasting, 
and each person has his particular saint, as well as 
each calling and occupation. To-morrow is to be 
celebrated, le jour des rois. The day before this 
feast it is customary to make a large paste pie, into 
which one bean is put. Each person at table cuts 
his slice, and the one who is so lucky as to obtain 
the bean, is dubbed king or queen. Accordingly, 
to-day, when I went in to dinner, I found one upon 
our table. Your cousin Abby began by taking the 
first slice ; but alas ! poor girl, no bean, and no 
queen. In the next place, your cousin John sec- 
onded her by taking a larger cut, and as cautious as 
cousin T when he inspects merchandise, bisect- 
ed his paste with mathematical circumspection ; but 
to him it pertained not. By this time, I was ready for 
my part ; but first I declared that I had no cravings 
for royalty. I accordingly separated my piece with 
much firmness, nowise disappointed that it fell not 
to me. Your uncle, who was all this time picking 
his chicken bone, saw us divert ourselves without 
saying any thing ; but presently he seized the re- 
maining half, and to crumbs went the poor paste, 
cut here and slash there ; when, behold the bean ! 
" And thus," said he, " are kingdoms obtained ; " 
but the servant, who stood by and saw the havoc, de- 
clared solemnly that he could not retain the title, as 
the laws decreed it to chance, and not to force. 
How is General Warren's family ? Well, I hope, 



2*^8 LETTERS. 

or I should have heard of it. I am sorry Mrs. 
Warren is so scrupulous about writing to me. 
I forwarded a long letter to her some time since. 
Where is Miss Nancy Quincy ? Well, I hope. We 
often laugh at your cousin John about her. He 
says her stature would be a great recommendation 
to him, as he is determined never to marry a tall 
woman, lest her height should give her a superiority 
over him. He is generally thought older than your 
cousin Abby ; and partly, I believe, because his 
company is with those much older than himself. 

As to the Germantown family, my soul is grieved 
for them. Many are the afflictions of the righteous. 
Would to Heaven that the clouds would disperse, 
and give them a brighter day. My best respects to 
them. Let Mrs. Field know, that Esther is quite 
recovered, and as gay as a lark. She went to Paris 
the other day with Pauline, to see a play, which is 
called " Figaro." It is a piece much celebrated, 
and has had sixty-eight representations ; and every 
thing was so new to her, that Pauline says, " Est is 
crazed." 

Affectionately yours, 

A. A. 



LETTERS. 279 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

Auteuil, 20 February, 1785. 

MY DEAR SISTER; 

This day eight months I sailed for Europe, since 
which many new and interesting scenes have pre- 
sented themselves before me. I have seen many of 
the beauties, and some of the deformities, of this 
old world. I have been more than ever convinced, 
that there is no summit of virtue, and no depth of 
vice, which human nature is not capable of rising to, 
on the one hand, or sinking into, on the other. I 
have felt the force of an observation, which I have 
read, that daily example is the most subtile of poi- 
sons. I have found my taste reconciling itself to 
habits, customs, and fashions, which at first disgust- 
ed me. The first dance which I saw upon the stage 
shocked me ; the dresses and beauty of the per- 
formers were enchanting ; but, no sooner did the 
dance commence, than I felt my delicacy wounded, 
and I was ashamed to be seen to look at them. 
Girls, clothed in the thinnest silk and gauze, with 
their petticoats short, springing two feet from the 
floor, poising themselves in the air, with their feet 
flying, and as perfectly showing their garters and 
drawers as though no petticoat had been worn, was 
a sight altogether new to me. Their motions are 
as light as air, and as quick as lightning ; they bal- 
ance themselves to astonishment. No description 



280 LETTERS. 

can equal the reality. They are daily trained to it, 
from early infancy, at a royal academy, instituted 
for this purpose. You will very often see little 
creatures, not more than seven or eight years old, 
as undauntedly performing their parts as the eldest 
among them. Shall I speak a truth, and say that 
repeatedly seeing these dances has worn off that 
disgust, which 1 at first felt, and that I see them now 
with pleasure ? Yet, when I consider the tendency 
of these things, the passions they must excite, and 
the known character, even to a proverb, which is 
attached to an opera girl, my abhorrence is not 
lessened, and neither my reason nor judgment has 
accompanied my sensibility in acquiring any de- 
gree of callousness. The art of dancing is carried 
to the highest degree of perfection that it is capable 
of. At the opera, the house is neither so grand, nor 
of so beautiful architecture, as the French theatre, but 
it is more frequented by the heau monde, who had 
rather be amused than instructed. The scenery is 
more various and more highly decorated, the dress- 
es more costly and rich. And O ! the music, vocal 
and instrumental, it has a soft, persuasive power, 
and a dying sound. Conceive a highly decorated 
building, filled with youth, beauty, grace, ease, clad 
in all the most pleasing and various ornaments of 
dress, which fancy can form ; these objects singing 
like cherubs to the best tuned instruments, most 
skilfully handled, the softest, tenderest strains; ev- 
ery attitude corresponding with the music ; full of 



LETTERS. 281 

the god or goddess whom they celebrate ; the fe- 
male voices accompanied by an equal number of 
Adonises. Think you that this city can fail of be- 
coming a Cythera, and this house the temple of 
Venus ? 

" When music softens, and when dancing fires," 

it requires the immortal shield of the invincible Mi- 
nerva, to screen youth from the arrows which assail 
them on every side. 

As soon as a girl sets her foot upon the floor of 
the opera, she is excommunicated by the Church, 
and denied burial in holy ground. She conceives 
nothing worse can happen to her ; all restraint is 
thrown off, and she delivers herself to the first who 
bids high enough for her. But let me turn from a 
picture, of which the outlines are but just sketched ; 
I wotild willingly veil the rest, as it can only tend to 
excite sentiments of horror. 

13 March, 1785. 
You will see, by the former date, that my letter 
has lain by me some time. Mr. Pickman, of Salem, 
who is going to London, has promised to take this 
with him, and will carry it himself, if no opportunity 
offers before, to America. We are all well ; some 
preparing for America, and others longing for the 
time of their departure thither. What a sad misfor- 
tune it is to have the body in one place, and the soul 
in another. Indeed, my dear sister, I hope to come 
home the spring after the present. My acquaintance 



282 



LETTERS. 



here is not large, nor ever will be. Then, what are 
dinners, and visits of ceremony, compared with 
" the feast of reason, and the flow of soul " ? I 
have dined twice at the Marquis de la Fayette's, 
with a large company, some of whom I was ac- 
quainted with, and others that I never saw before ; 
and to-morrow are to dine here, Mr. Brantzen, 
the Ambassador Extraordinary from Holland ; the 
Chevalier de la Luzerne, late Minister in America ; 
Marquis de la Fayette and his lady; Mr. W. T. 
Franklin, late Secretary to the American Commis- 
sion ; Colonel Humphreys, our present Secretary ; 
and Mr. Williams, a worthy, clever gentleman, 
who has been very friendly to us ; Mr. Jonathan 
Williams, a Bostonian, who very often comes to 
have a social talk about all our old friends and 
acquaintance in Boston ; the Chevalier Jones ; Mr. 
Bingham and lady ; a Mr. and Mrs. Rucker, and 
Mrs. Rucker's sister, lately from New York, stran- 
gers to me ; but all strangers, from every part of 
America, visit the American Ministers, and then 
are invited to dine with them. The Due de la 
Vauguyon was invited also ; but, not hearing from 
him, I suppose him not in Paris at present ; he was 
late Minister from this Court to Holland. Madame 
la Marquise de la Fayette is a very agreeable lady, 
and has two very pretty children ; the third, Virginia, 
I have never seen ; it is in the country ; the eldest 
daughter is seven years old, and George Washing- 
ton about five. After dinner. Miss and Master are 



LETTERS. 283 

always introduced to the company; both of them 
speak English^, and behave very prettily. Madame 
de la Fayette has promised to bring me acquainted 
with her mother, the Duchess de Noailles, who is 
now at Versailles, waiting for the birth of a Prince, 
or Princess, which is daily expected ; and, as she is 
one of the ladies of honor to the Queen, her at- 
tendance is indispensable. 

I havo sc. rccly room left to say, that I am, 
Very affectionately yours, 

A. A. 



TO MISS LUCY CRANCH. 

Auteuil, 7 May, 1785. 
I PRESUME my dear Lucy would be disappointed, 
if her cousin did not deliver her a line from her 
aunt. Yet it is hardly fair to take up an exhausted 
pen to address a young lady, whose eager search 
after knowledge entitles her to every communication 
in my power. 

I was in hopes to have visited several curiosities 
before your cousin left us, that 1 might have been 
able to relate them to my friends ; but several 
engagements in the company way, and some pre- 
paration for his voyage, together with the neces- 
sary arrangements for our own journey, have so 
fully occupied me, that I fear I shall fail in my in- 
tentions. We are to dine to-day with Mr. Jefferson. 



284 LETTERS. 

Should any thing occur there worthy of notice, it 
shall be the subject of my evening pen. 

Well, my dear niece, I have returned from Mr. 
Jefferson's. When I got there, I found a pretty 
large company. It consisted of the Marquis and 
Madame de la Fayette ; the Count and Countess 
de — , a French Count, who had been a general in 
America, but whose name 1 fbrget ; Commodore 
Jones ; Mr. Jarvis, an American gentleman, lately 
arrived, the same who married Amelia Broom, who 
says there is so strong a likeness between your 
cousin and his lady, that he is obliged to be upon his 
guard lest he should think himself at home, and 
make some mistake ; he appears a very sensible, 
agreeable gentleman ; a Mr. Bowdoin, an American 
also ; I ask the Chevalier de la Luzerne's pardon, — 
I had like to have forgotten him ; Mr. Williams, of 
course, as he always dines with Mr. Jefferson ; and 
Mr. Short, though one of Mr. Jefferson's family, as 
he has been absent some time, I name him. He 
took a resolution that he would go into a French 
family at St. Germain, and acquire the language ; 
and this is the only way for a foreigner to obtain it. 
I have often wished that I could not hear a word of 
English spoken. I think I have mentioned Mr. 
Short before, in some of my letters ; he is about the 
stature of Mr. Tudor ; a better figure, but much like 
him in looks and manners ; consequently a favorite 
of mine. They have some customs very curious 
here. When company are invited to dine, if twenty 



LETTERS. 285 

gentlemen meet, they seldom or never sit down, but 
are standing or walking from one part of the room 
to the other, with their swords on, and their cha- 
peau de bras, which is a very small silk hat, always 
worn under the arm. These they lay aside whilst 
they dine, but reassume them immediately after. 
I wonder how the fashion of standing crept in 
amongst a nation, who really deserve the appella- 
tion of polite ; for in winter it shuts out all the fire 
from the ladies ; I know I have suffered from it 
many times. At dinner, the ladies and gentlemen 
are mixed, and you converse with him who sits next 
you, rarely speaking to persons across the table, 
unless to ask if they will be served with any thing 
from your side. Conversation is never general, as 
with us ; for, when the company quit the table, they 
fall into Ute-a-t te of two and two, when the con- 
versation is in a low voice, and a stranger, unac- 
quainted with the customs of the country, would 
think that everybody had private business to trans- 
act. 

Last evening, as we returned, the weather being 
very soft and pleasant, I proposed to your uncle to 
stop at the Tuileries and walk in the garden, which 
we did for an hour; there was, as usual, a collec- 
tion of four or five thousand persons in the walks. 
This garden is the most celebrated public walk in 
Paris. It is situated just opposite to the river Seine, 
upon the left hand as you enter Paris from Auteuil. 
Upon Boston Neck, suppose that on one side flows 



286 LETTERS. 

the river Seine, and on the other hand is the garden 
of the Tuileries. There is a high wall next the 
street, upon which there is a terrace, which is used 
as a winter walk. This garden has six large gates, 
by which you may enter. It is adorned with 
noble rows of trees, straight, large, and tall, which 
form a most beautiful shade. The populace are not 
permitted to walk in this garden but upon the day 
of Saint Louis, when they have it all to themselves. 
Upon one side of this garden is the castle of the 
Tuileries, which is an immense pile of building, 
very ancient. It is in one of these chateaus, that 
the concert spirituel is held. Upon the terrace which 
borders this chateau, are six statues and two vases. 
These vases are large, circular spots of water, 
which are conveyed there from the Seine by lead- 
en pipes under ground. Round the great vase, 
which is in the midst of the parterre, are four groups 
of white marble. One represents Lucretia ; the 
story, I know, is familiar to you. The Parisians do 
well to erect a statute to her, for at this day, there 
are many more Tarquins than Lucretias. She is 
represented as plunging the dagger into her bosom 
in presence of her husband. There is another 
statue, — Anchises saved from the flames of Troy 
by his son ^neas, who is carrying him out upon his 
shoulders, leading Ascanius, his son, by his hand. 
The third is the rape of Orithyia, the daughter of 
Erectheus, King of Athens, by Boreas ; and the 
fourth, the ravishment of Cybele by Saturn ; the 



LETTERS. 287 

two last vei'y pretty ornaments for a public garden. 
At the end of the great alley fronting the largest 
water-piece, which is in the form of an octagon, are 
eight more marble statues. Upon the right is Han- 
nibal, counting the rings which were taken from the 
knights who were killed in the battle of Cannse. 
Two Seasons, Spring and Winter, are upon the left 
hand, and a very beautiful figure of Scipio Africa- 
nus, near which are the two other Seasons, Summer 
and Autumn, and a statue of the Empress Agrippina. 
Over against these are four Rivers, colossal, repre- 
sented sleeping, the Seine, the Loire, the Tiber, 
and the Nile. At the end of the two terraces, are two 
figures in marble, mounted upon winged horses ; one 
is Mercury, and the other Fame, who, as usual, is 
blowing a trumpet. In very hot weather, the alleys 
are watered ; under the trees are seats and chairs, 
which you may hire to sit in for a sous or two. 
There are many plots of grass interspersed. 

Thus, you see, I have scribbled you a long letter. 
I hope my description will please you. This is my 
eleventh letter, and I have yet several others to 
write ; so adieu, my dear Lucy, and believe me 
most affectionately yours, 

A. A. 



288 



LETTERS. 



TO BIRS. SHAW. 

Auteuil, 8 May, 1785. 

MV DEAR SISTER, 

I DO not expect to date you any more letters from 
this place. Delightful and blooming garden, how 
much shall I regret your loss ! The fish-pond and 
the fountain are just put in order ; the trees are in 
blossom, and the flowers are coming on in succession ; 
the forest trees are new clad in green, several beau- 
tiful rows of which form arched bowers at the 
bottom of our garden, the tops being cut so that 
they look like one continued plain ; their leaves and 
branches entwine, and shade you entirely from the 
rays of the sun. It will not be easy to find in the 
midst of a city so charming a scene. I shall quit it, 
however, with less reluctance, on account of my 
son's absence, which would be more irksome to me 
here, than in a country the language of which I 
shall be able to speak without an interpreter, or so 
much twisting and twirling of my tongue, and then 
pronouncing badly at last. I expect to be more 
scrutinized in England than here. " I said, I will 
take heed to my ways," is a text of holy writ fruit- 
ful of instruction in all situations of life, but speaks 
more loudly to those who sustain public characters. 

It is so long since I heard from my American 
friends, that I begin to grow impatient. I had hopes 
that another year's wandering would have put an 



LETTERS. 289 

end to our pilgrimage. You can hardly form an 
idea how difficult and expensive it is to be house- 
keeping a few months at a time in so many different 
countries. It has been Mr. Adams's fortune, ever 
since he came abroad, not to live a year at a time 
in one place. At the Hague he has a house and 
furniture, but they could not be removed five hun- 
dred miles; therefore it was necessary to hire a 
house and furniture here, to buy table linen, bed 
linen, china, glass, and plate. Here we have re- 
sided eight months, and now we must quit this for 
England. Removal in these countries is not so 
easy a matter as in ours ; for, however well you may 
pack up your things for the purpose, they must un- 
dergo so many scrutinies, besides paying heavy du- 
ties for passing from one country to another. Of this 
I can give you bne instance, which happened a few 
moments ago. A gentleman in one of the provinces 
sent Mr. Adams a present of five bottles of wine 
which he wished recommended in America, and this 
was to serve as a sample. The duties, which vv^e 
had to pay upon only those five bottles, mounted 
them up to three livres a-piece, and the real value 
of the wine might be nine or ten coppers a bottle ; 
be sure, not more. 

The injury which clothing sustains, in such long 
journeys upon paved roads, is incredible. I fancy 
I never related to you a droll adventure which hap- 
pened to me on my journey here. My friends ad- 
vised me, when I came abroad, to take my money in 
19 



290 LETTERS. 

crowns and dollars, as being the most advantageous 
for me ; but, when arrived, I found I could not part 
with them without much loss, so I concluded to take 
them with me to France. There were about two 
hundred, which I had put into a strong bag, and at 
the bottom of my travelling trunk they were placed, 
in the middle of which I had put a large band-box 
in which I had packed a very nice gauze bonnet, 
four caps, handkerchiefs, &c., (to the amount of about 
five guineas,) which I had made for me whilst I was 
in London. The third day of our journey, when I 
had occasion to open the trunk, I found a prodigious 
black dust upon the top. I directed it to be taken 
out, when O ! terrible to behold, " dust to dust, and 
ashes to ashes," nothing was left of all my rigging 
but a few black rags ; so that, when I got to Paris, I 
could not be seen until I had sent to the milliner's 
and bought a cap. You can carry nothing with any 
safety, but what is upon the top of the carriage. 
Affectionately yours, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

Auteuil, 8 May, 1785. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

Can my dear sister realize that it is near eleven 
months since I left her ? To me it seems incredi- 
ble ; more like a dream than a reality. Yet it 
ought to appear the longest ten months of my life, 



LETTERS. 291 

if I were to measure the time by the variety of ob- 
jects which have occupied my attention ; but, amidst 
them all, my heart returns, like the dove of Noah, 
and rests only in my native land. I never thought 
myself so selfish a being as since I have become a 
traveller ; for, although I see nature around me in 
a much higher state of cultivation than our own 
country can boast, and elegance of taste and man- 
ners in a thousand forms, I cannot feel interested in 
them ; it is in \ain for me, that here 

" kind Nature wakes her genial power, 
Suckles each herb, and nurtures every flower." 

'T is true the garden yields a rich profusion ; but 
they are neither plants of my hand, nor children of 
my care. I have bought a little bird lately, and I 
really think I feel more attached to that, than to any 
object out of my own family, animate or inanimate. 
Yet I do not consider myself in the predicament of 
a poor fellow, who, not having a house in which to 
put his head, took up his abode in the stable of a 
gentleman ; but, though so very poor, he kept a 
dog, with whom he daily divided the small portion 
of food which he earned. Upon being asked why, 
when he found it so difficult to live himself, he still 
kept a dog ; " What," says the poor fellow, 
" part with my dog ! Why, whom should I have to 
love me then ? " You can never feel the force of 
this reply, unless you were to go into a foreign 
country without being able to speak the language of 
it. I could not have believed, if I had not experi- 



"292 LETTEHS. 

enced it, how strong the love of country is in the 
human mind. Strangers from all parts of the coun- 
try, who visit us, feel more nearly allied than the 
most intimate acquaintance I have in Europe. Be- 
fore this will reach you, you will have learnt our 
destination to England. Whether it will prove a 
more agreeable situation than the present, will de- 
pend much upon the state of politics. We must 
first go to Holland to arrange our affairs there, and 
to take leave of that Court. I shall wish to be mov- 
ing as soon as my family lessens, it will be so lone- 
some. We have as much company in a formal way 
as our revenues will admit ; and Mr. Jefferson, with 
one or two Americans, visits us in the social, friend- 
ly way. I shall really regret to leave Mr. Jeffer- 
son ; he is one of the choice ones of the earth. On 
Thursday, I dine with him at his house. On Sun- 
day, he is to dine here. On Monday, we all dine 
with the Marquis ; and on Thursday we dine with 
the Swedish Ambassador, one of the most agreeable 
men, and the politest gentleman I have met with. 
He lives like a prince. I know you love to know 
all my movements, which makes me so particular 
to you. 

I have many affairs upon me at present. What 
with my son's going away, my own adjustments for 
a final leave of this country, many things must pass 
through my hands ; but I am the less anxious to 
write, as your nephew will tell you all about us. 
You will think I ought to have written you more 



LETTERS. 293 

now ; but I am almost sick of my pen, and I know 
you will see what I write to others. I will not, 
however, close until the day before he quits the 
house. 

10 May. 

To-morrow morning my son takes his departure 
for America, and we go next week to England. I 
have nothing further to add, than my regards to 
Mr. Cranch, and a desire that you would let me 
hear from you by every opportunity. I shall lose 
part, and the greatest part of American intelligence 
by quitting France ; for no person is so well inform- 
ed from all the States as the Marquis de la Fayette. 
He has established a correspondence in all the" 
States, and has the newspapers from every quarter. 

Adieu. 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 
London, Bath Hotel, Westminster, 24 June, 1785. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

I HAVE been here a month without writing a single 
line to my American friends. About the 28th of 
May we reached London, and expected to have 
gone into our old quiet lodgings at the Adelphi ; but 
we found every hotel full. The sitting of Parlia- 
ment, the birth-day of the King, and the famous 
celebration of the music of Handel at Westminster 
Abbey had drawn together such a concourse of peo- 



294 LETTERS. 

pie, that we were glad to get into lodgings at the 
moderate price of a guinea per day, for two rooms 
and two chambers at the Bath Hotel, Westminster, 
Piccadilly, where we yet are. This being the Court 
end of the city, it is the resort of a vast concourse of 
carriages. It is too public and noisy for pleasure ; 
but necessity is without law. The ceremony of 
// presentation, upon one week to the King, and the 
next to the Queen, was to take place, after which I 
was to prepare for mine. It is customary, upon 
presentation, to receive visits from all the foreign 
ministers ; so that we could not exchange our lodg- 
ings for more private ones, as we might and should, 
had we been only in a private character. The foreign 
ministers, and several English lords and earls, have 
paid their compliments here, and all hitherto is civil 
and polite. I was a fortnight, all the time I could 
get, looking at different houses, but could not find 
any one fit to inhabit under c£200, besides the 
taxes, which mount up to £50 or <£60. At last, my 
good genius carried me to one in Grosvenor Square, 
which was not let, because the person who had the 
care of it could let it only for the remaining lease, 
which was one year and three quarters. The price, 
which is not quite <^200, the situation, and all to- 
gether, induced us to close the bargain, and t have 
prevailed upon the person who lets it to paint two 
rooms, which will put it into decent order ; so that, 
as soon as our furniture comes, I shall again com- 
mence housekeeping. Living at a hotel is, I think, 



LETTERS. 295 

more expensive than housekeeping, in proportion to 
what one has for his money. We have never had 
more than two dishes at a time upon our table, and 
have not pretended to ask any company, and yet 
we live at a greater expense than twenty-five 
guineas per week. The wages of servants, horse- 
hire, house-rent, and provisions are much dearer 
here than in France. Servants of various sorts, and 
for different departments, are to be procured ; their 
characters are to be inquired into, and this I take up- 
on me, even to the coachman. You can hardly form 
an idea how much I miss my son on this, as well as 
on many other accounts ; but I cannot bear to 
trouble Mr. Adams with any thing of a domestic 
kind, who, from morning until evening, has sufficient 
to occupy all his time. You can have no idea of 
the petitions, letters, and private applications for 
assistance, which crowd our doors. Every person 
represents his case as dismal. Some may really be 
objects of compassion, and some we assist ; but one 
must have an inexhaustible purse to supply them 
all. Besides, there are so many gross impositions 
practised, as we have found in more instances than 
one, that it would take the whole of a person's time 
to trace all their stories. Many pretend to have 
been American soldiers, some to have served as 
officers. A most glaring instance of falsehood, 
however. Colonel Smith^ detected in a man of these 
pretensions, who sent to Mr. Adams from the King's 
1 This gentleman was, by Congress, appointed Secretary of 



296 



Bench prison, and modestly desired five guineas ; 
a qualified cheat, but evidently a man of letters and 
abilities ; but, if it is to continue in this way, a galley 
slave would have an easier task. 

The Tory venom has begun to spit itself forth in 
the public papers, as I expected, bursting with envy 
that an American minister should be received here 
with the same marks of attention, politeness, and 
civility, which are shown to the ministers of any 
other power. AVhen a minister delivers his creden- 
tials to the King, it is always in his private closet, 
attended only by the Minister for Foreign Affairs, 
which is called a private audience, and the minister 
presented makes some little address to his Majesty, 
and the same ceremony to the Queen, whose reply 
was in these words ; " Sir, I thank you for your 
civility to me and my family, and I am glad to see 
you in this country ; " then she very politely inquir- 
ed whether he had got a house yet. The answer of 
his Majesty was much longer ; but I am not at lib- 
erty to say more respecting it, than that it was civil 
and polite, and that his Majesty said he was glad 
the choice of his country had fallen upon him. The 
news-liars know nothing of the matter ; they repre- 
sent it just to answer their purpose. Last Thursday, 
Colonel Smith was presented at Court, and to-mor- 
row, at the Queen's circle, my ladyship and your 

Legation to Mr. Adams upon this mission } and. not long after. 
married his dausfhter 



LETTERS. 



297 



niece make oiiv compHments. There is no other 
presentation in Europe, in which I should feel so 
much as in this. Your own reflections will easily 
suggest the reasons. 

I have received a very friendly and polite visit 
from the Countess of Effingham. She called, and 
not finding me at home, left a card. I returned 
her visit ; but was obliged to do it by leaving my 
card too, as she was gone out of town ; but, when 
her Ladyship returned, she sent her compliments 
and word, that if agreeable she would take a dish of 
tea with me, and named her day. She accordingly 
came, and appeared a very polite, sensible woman. 
She is about forty, a good person, though a little 
masculine, elegant in her appearance, very easy 
and social. The Earl of Effingham is too well re- 
membered^ by America to need ^ny particular re- 
cital of his character. His mother is first lady to 
the Queen. When her Ladyship took leave, she 
desired I would let her know the day I would favor 
her with a visit, as she should be loth to be absent. 
She resides, in summer, a little distance from town. 
The Earl is a member of Parliament, which obliges 
him now to be in town, and she usually comes with 
him, and resides at a hotel a little distance from 
this. 

1 find a good many ladies belonging to the South- 

1 Oa account of liis resigning his commission in the British 
army, ratiier than serve against America. See his letter, in " The 
Remembrancer," for 1775, p. 2C3. 



298 LETTERS. 

ern States here, many of whom have visited me ; 
I have exchanged visits with several, yet neither of 
us have met. The custom is, however, here much 
more agreeable than in France, for it is as with us ; 
the stranger is first visited. 

The ceremony of presentation here is considered 
as indispensable. There are four minister-plenipo- 
tentiaries' ladies here ; but one ambassador, and 
he has no lady. In France, the ladies of ambas- 
sadors only are presented. One is obliged here 
to attend the circles of the Queen, which are held 
in summer once a fortnight, but once a week the 
rest of the year ; and what renders it exceedingly 
expensive is, that you cannot go twice the same 
season in the same dress, and a Court dress you 
cannot make use of anywhere else. I directed my 
mantuamaker to let my dress be elegant, but plain 
as I could possibly appear, with decency ; accord- 
ingly, it is white lutestring, covered and full trim- 
med whh white crape, festooned with lilac ribbon 
and mock point lace, over a hoop of enormous ex- 
tent ; there is only a narrow train of about three 
yards in length to the gown waist, which is put into 
a ribbon upon the left side, the Queen only having 
her train borne. Ruffle cuffs for married ladies, 
treble lace ruffles, a very dress cap with long lace 
lappets, two white plumes, and a blonde lace hand- 
kerchief. This is my rigging. I should have men- 
tioned two pearl pins in my hair, ear-rings and 
necklace of the same kind. 



LETTERS. 299 

Tliursday Morning. 

My head is dressed for St. James's, and, in my 
opinion, looks very tasty. Whilst my daughter's is 
undergoing the same operation I set myself down 
composedly to write you a few lines. " Well," me- 
thinks I hear Betsey and Lucy say, " what is cousin's 
dress ? " White, my dear girls, like your aunt's, 
only differently trimmed and ornamented ; her train 
being wholly of white crape, and trimmed with 
white ribbon ; the petticoat, which is the most showy 
part of the dress, covered and drawn up in what are 
called festoons, with light wreaths of beautiful flow- 
ers ; the sleeves white crape, drawn over the silk, 
with a row of lace round the sleeve, near the shoul- 
der, another half way down the arm, and a third 
upon the top of the ruffle, a little flower stuck be- 
tween ; a kind of hat cap, with three large feathers 
and a bunch of flowers ; a wreath of flowers upon 
the hair. Thus equipped, we go in our own car- 
riage, and Mr. Adams and Colonel Smith in his. 
But I must quit my pen to put myself in order for 
the ceremony, which begins at two o'clock. When I 
return I will relate to you my reception ; but do not 
let it circulate, as there may be persons eager to 
catch at every thing, and as much given to misrep- 
resentation as here. I would gladly be excused the 
ceremony. 

Friday Morning. 

Congratulate me, my dear sister, it is over. I 
was too much fatigued to write a line last evening. 



300 LETTERS. 

At two o'clock we went to the circle, which is in the 
drawing-room of the Queen. We passed through 
several apartments, lined as usual with spectators 
upon these occasions. Upon entering the ante- 
chamber, the Baron de Lynden, the Dutch Minister, 
who has been often here, came and spoke with me. 
A Count Sarsfield, a French nobleman, with whom 
I was acquainted, paid his compliments. As I 
passed into the drawing-room, Lord Carmarthen and 
Sir Clement Cotterel Donner were presented to me. 
Though they had been several times here, I had nev- 
er seen them before. The Swedish and the Polish 
ministers made their compliments, and several other 
gentlemen ; but not a single lady did I know until 
the Countess of Effingham came, who was very 
civil. There were three young ladies, daughters of 
the Marquis of Lothian, who were to be presented 
at the same time, and two brides. We were placed 
in a circle round the drawing-room, which was very 
full, I believe two hundred persons present. Only 
think of the task ! The royal family have to go 
round to every person, and find small talk enough to 
speak to all of them, though they very prudently 
speak in a whisper, so that only the person who 
stands next you can hear what is said. The King 
enters the room, and goes round to the right ; the 
Queen and Princesses to the left. The lord in wait- 
ing presents you to the King; and the lady in waiting 
does the same to her Majesty. The King is a person- 
able man, but, my dear sister, he has a certain coun- 



LETTERS. 301 

tenance, which you and I have often remarked ; a 
red face and white eyebrows. The Queen has a 
similar countenance, and the numerous royal family 
confirm the observation. Persons are not placed ac- 
cording to their rank in the drawing-room, but pro- 
miscuously ; and when the King comes in he takes 
persons as they stand. When he came to me. Lord 
Onslow said, " Mrs. Adams " ; upon which I drew 
off my right-hand glove, and his Majesty saluted my 
left cheek ; then asked me if I had taken a walk to- 
day. I could have told his Majesty that I had been 
all the morning preparing to wait upon him ; but I 
replied, " No, Sire." " Why, don't you love walk- 
ing ? " says he. I answered, that I was rather 
indolent in that respect. He then bowed, and pass- 
ed on. It was more than two hours after this be- 
fore it came to my turn to be presented to the 
Queen. The circle was so large that the company 
were four hours standing. The Queen was evi- 
dently embarrassed when I was presented to her. 
I had disagreeable feelings too. She, however, 
said, " Mrs. Adams, have you got into your 
house ? Pray, how do you like the situation of 
it ? " Whilst the Princess Royal looked com- 
passionate, and asked me if I was not much fa- 
tigued ; and observed, that it was a very full draw- 
ing-room. Her sister, who came next. Princess 
Augusta, after having asked your niece if she was 
ever in England before, and her answering " Yes," 
inquired of me how long ago, and supposed it was 



302 LETTERS. 

when she was very young. And all this is said with 
much affability, and the ease and freedom of old 
acquaintance. The manner, in which they make 
their tour round the room, is, first, the Queen, 
the lady in waiting behind her, holding up her 
train ; next to her the Princess Royal ; after her. 
Princess Augusta, and their lady in waiting behind 
them. They are pretty, rather than beautiful, well- 
shaped, with fair complexions, and a tincture of the 
King's countenance. The two sisters look much 
alike ; they were both dressed in black and silver 
silk, with a silver netting upon the coat, and their 
heads full of diamond pins. The Queen was in 
purple and silver. She is not well shaped nor 
handsome. As to the ladies of the Court, rank and 
title may compensate for want of personal charms ; 
but they are, in general, very plain, ill-shaped, and 
ugly ; but don't you tell anybody that I say so. If 
one wants to see beauty, one must go to Ranelagh ; 
there it is collected, in one bright constellation. 
There were two ladies very elegant, at Court, — Lady 
Salisbury and Lady Talbot ; but the observation did 
not in general hold good, that fine feathers make 
fine birds. I saw many who were vastly richer 
dressed than your friends, but I will venture to say, 
that I saw none neater or more elegant; which 
praise I ascribe to the taste of Mrs. Temple and my 
mantuamaker ; for, after having declared that I 
would not have any foil or tinsel about me, they 
fixed upon the dress I have described. Mrs. Tern- 



LETTERS. 303 

pie is my near neighbour, and has been very friendly 
to me. Mr. Temple, you know, is deaf, so that I 
cannot hold much conversation with him. 

The Tories are very free with their compliments. 
Scarcely a paper escapes without some scurrility. 
"We bear it with silent contempt ; having met a 
polite reception from the Court, it bites them like a 
serpent, and stings them like an adder. As to the 
success the negotiations may meet with, time alone 
can disclose the result ; but, if this nation does not 
suffer itself to be again duped by the artifice of 
some and the malice of others, it will unite itself 
with America on the most liberal principles and sen- 
timents. 

Captain Dashwood come ? Why, I have not half 
done. I have not told your aunt yet, that, whilst I 
was writing, I received her thrice-welcome letters, 
and from my dear cousins too, aunt Shaw and all ; 
nor how sometimes I laughed, and sometimes I 
cried. Yet there was nothing sorrowful in the let- 
ters, only they were too tender for me. What, not 
time to say I will write to all of them as soon as 
possible ? Why, I know they will all think I ought 
to write ; but how is it possible ? Let them think 
what I have had to do, and what I have had to ac- 
complish, as my furniture is come, and will be land- 
ed to-morrow. Eat the sweetmeats. Divide them 
amongst you, and the choicest sweetmeat of all I 
shall have in thinking that you enjoy them. 

1 went, last evening, to Ranelagh ; but I must re- 



304 LETTERS. 

serve that story for the young folk. You see I am 
in haste. 

Believe me most tenderly yours, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. SHAW. 
London, (Grosvenor Square,) 15 August, 1785. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

I HAVE been situated here for nearly six weeks. It 
is one of the finest squares in London. The air is 
as pure as it can be so near a great city. It is but 
a small distance from Hyde Park, round which I 
sometimes walk, but oftener ride. It resembles 
Boston Common, much larger, and more beautified 
with trees. On one side of it is a fine river. St. 
James's Park and Kensington Gardens are two other 
fashionable walks, which I am very sensible I ought 
to improve oftener than I do. One wants society in 
these places. Mrs. Temple is the only person near 
me with whom I can use the freedom of calling 
upon her to ride or walk with me, and her, to my no 
small regret, I am going to lose. Mrs. Hay resides 
out at Hampstead, about four miles from London. 
We visit, but they have such a paltry custom of 
dining here at night, that it ruins that true American 
sociability which only I delight in. Polite circles 
are much alike throughout Europe. Swift's " Jour- 
nal of a Modern Lady," though written sixty years 
ago, is perfectly applicable to the present day ; and, 
though noted as the changeable sex, in this scene of 



LETTERS. 305 

dissipation they have been steady. I shall never 
have much society with this kind of people, for 
they would not like me any more than I do them. 
They think much more of their titles here than in 
France. It is not unusual to find people of the 
highest rank there, the best bred and the politest 
people. If they have an equal share of pride, they 
know better how to hide it. Until I came here, I 
had no idea what a national and illiberal inveteracy 
the English have against their better behaved neigh- 
bours, and I feel a much greater partiality for them 
than I did whilst I resided among them. I would 
recommend to this nation a little more liberality and 
discernment ; their contracted sentiments lead them 
to despise all other nations. Perhaps I should be 
chargeable with the same narrow sentiments, if I 
give America the preference over these old European 
nations. In the cultivation of the arts and improve- 
ment in manufactures, they greatly excel us ; but 
we have native genius, capacity, and ingenuity, 
equal to all their improvements, and much more 
general knowledge diffused amongst us. You can 
scarcely form an idea how much superior our com- 
mon people, as they are termed, are to those of the 
same rank in this country. Neither have we that 
servility of manners, which the distinction between 
nobility and citizens gives to the people of this 
country. We tremble not, either at the sight or 
name of majesty. I own that I never felt my- 
self in a more contemptible situation, than when 
20 



306 LETTERS. 

I stood four hours together for a gracious smile 
from majesty, a witness to the anxious solicitude of 
those around me for the same mighty hoon. I how- 
ever had a more dignified honor, as his Majesty 
deigned to salute me. I have not been since to the 
drawing-room, but propose going to the next. As 
the company are chiefly out of town, the ceremony 
will not be so tedious. 

As to politics, the English continue to publish the 
most abusive, barefaced falsehoods against Ameri- 
ca that you can conceive of; yet, glaring as they 
are, they gain credit here, and they shut their 
eyes against a friendly and liberal intercourse. 
Yet their very existence depends upon a friendly 
union with us. How the pulse of the ministry beats, 
time will unfold ; but I do not promise or wish to 
myself a long continuance here. Such is the tem- 
per of the two nations towards each other, that, if 
we have not peace, we must have war. We cannot 
resign the intercourse, and quit each other. I hope, 
however, that it will not come to that alternative. 
Adieu. Your sister, 

A. A. 



TO MISS LUCY CRANCH. 



London, (Grosvenor Square,) 27 August, 1785. 

MY DEAK LUCY, 

I HAVE not yet noticed your obliging favor of April 
26th, which reached me by Captain Lyde, whilst 



LETTERS. 307 

I was at the Bath Hotel. I had then so much upon 
my hands, that I did not get time to write but to 
your mamma and cousin, who I hope is with you 
before now. By him I wrote many letters, and 
amongst the number of my friends, my dear Lucy 
was not omitted. 

If I did not believe my friends were partial to all 
I write, I should sometimes feel discouraged when I 
take my pen ; for, amongst so large a number of cor- 
respondents, I feel at a loss how to supply them all. 

It is usual at a large entertainment, to bring the 
solid food in the first course. The second consists 
of lighter diet, kickshaws, trifles, whip syllabub 
&c. ; the third is the dessert, consisting of the fruits 
of the season, and sometimes foreign sweetmeats. 
If it would not be paying my letters too great a 
compliment to compare any of them to solid food, I 
should feel no reluctance at keeping up the meta- 
phor with respect to the rest. Yet it is not the 
studied sentence, nor the elaborate period, which 
pleases, but the genuine sentiments of the heart ex- 
pressed with simplicity. All the specimens, which 
have been handed down to us as models for letter- 
writing, teach us that natural ease is the greatest 
beauty of it. It is that native simplicity too, which 
gives to the Scotch songs a merit superior to all 
others. My Scotch song, " There 's na luck about 
the house," will naturally occur to your mind. 

I believe Richardson has done more towards em- 
bellishing the present age, and teaching them the 



308 LETTERS. 

talent of letter- writing, than any other modern I can 
name. You know I am passionately fond of all his 
works, even to his " Pamela." In the simplicity of 
our manners, we judge that many of his descrip- 
tions and some of his characters are beyond real life ; 
but those, who have been conversant in these old cor- 
rupted countries, will be soon convinced that Rich- 
ardson painted only the truth in his abandoned char- 
acters ; and nothing beyond what human nature is 
capable of attaining, and frequently has risen to, 
in his amiable portraits. Richardson was master of 
the human heart ; he studied and copied nature ; 
he has shown the odiousness of vice, and the fatal 
consequences which result from the practice of it ; 
he has painted virtue in all her amiable attitudes ; 
he never loses sight of religion, but points his char- 
acters to a future state of restitution as the sure 
ground of safety to the virtuous, and excludes not 
hope from the wretched penitent. The oftener I 
have read his books, and the more I reflect upon his 
great variety of characters, perfectly well supported, 
the more I am led to love and admire the author. 
He must have an abandoned, wicked, and depraved 
heart, who can be tempted to vice by the perusal 
of Richardson's works. Indeed, I know not how a 
person can read them without being made better by 
them, as they dispose the mind to receive and relish 
every good and benevolent principle. He miay 
have faults, but they are so few, that they ought not 
to be named in the brilliant clusters of beauties 



LETTERS. 309 

which ornament his works. The human mind is an 
active principle, always in search of some gratifica- 
tion ; and those writings which tend to elevate it to 
the contemplation of truth and virtue, and to teach 
it that it is capable of rising to higher degrees of 
excellence than the mere gratification of sensual 
appetites and passions, contribute to promote its 
mental pleasures, and to advance the dignity of our 
natures. Sir Joshua Reynolds's observation with 
respect to painting may be applied to all those works 
which tend to refine the taste, " which, if it does not 
lead directly to purity of manners, obviates, at least, 
their greatest depravation, by disentangling the mind 
from appetite, and conducting the thoughts through 
successive stages of excellence, till that contempla- 
tion of universal rectitude and harmony, which began 
by taste, may, as it is exalted and refined, conclude 
in virtue." 

Why may we not suppose, that, the higher our at- 
tainments in knowledge and virtue are here on earth, 
the more nearly we assimilate ourselves to that 
order of beings who now rank above us in the world 
of spirits ? We are told in Scripture, that there are 
different kinds of glory, and that one star differeth 
from another. Why should not those who hav^ dis- 
tinguished themselves by superior excellence over 
their fellow-mortals continue to preserve their rank 
when admitted to the kingdom of the just ? Though 
the estimation of worth may be very different in the 
view of the righteous Judge of the world from that 



310 LETTERS. 

which vain man esteems such on earth, yet we may 
rest assured that justice will be strictly administered 
to us. 

But whither has my imagination wandered ? Very 
distant from my thoughts when I first took my pen. 

We have a large company to dine with us to-day, 
and I have some few arrangements to make before 
dinner, which obliges me to hasten to a conclusion ; 
among the persons invited, is a gentleman who mar- 
ried the only daughter of Richardson. She died 
about six months ago. This gentleman has in his 
possession the only portrait of her father which was 
ever taken. He has several times invited me to go 
to his house and see it. I design it, though I have 
not yet accepted his invitation. 

Write to me, my dear Lucy, and be assured I 
speak the words of truth and soberness when I tell 
you that your letters give real pleasure to 
Your affectionate aunt, 

A. A. 



TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 
London, G September, 1785. Grosvenor Square. 

MY DEAR SON, 

Yesterday, being Sunday, I went with your father 
to the Foundling Church, Dr. Price, whom we 
usually attend, being absent a few weeks in the 
country. When I returned from church, I went 
into my closet and took up my pen, with an inten- 



LETTERS. 311 

tion of writing to you ; but I really felt so triste at 
not having heard of your arrival, that I could not 
compose myself sufficiently to write to you ; so I 
scribbled to your brothers. By the time I had fin- 
ished my letters, I was called to tea. Mr. Brown, 
the painter, came in and spent part of the evening. 
I read a sermon in Barrow upon the government of 
the tongue, and went to bed with one of my old im- 
pressions, that letters were near at hand. 

This morning went below to breakfast; the urn 
was brought up boiling ; the chocolate ready upon 
the table ; enter Mr. Spiller, the butler, who, by the 
way, is a very spruce body, and after very respect- 
fully bowing with his hands full, "Mr. Church's 
compliments to you. Sir, and has brought you this 
packet, but could not wait upon you to-day, as he 
was obliged to go out of town." Up we all jumped ; 
your sister seized hold of a letter, and cried " My 
brother, my brother ! " We were not long opening 
and perusing, and " I am so glad," and " I am so 
glad," was repeated from one to another. Mamma 
did not fail remarking her old impression. The 
chocolate grew cold, the top of the tea-pot was for- 
gotten, and the bread and butter went down uneaten. 
Yet nobody felt the loss of breakfast. So near akin 
are joy and grief, that the effect is often similar. 

Our countrymen have most essentially injured 
themselves by running here in shoals after the 
peace, and obtaining a credit which they cannot 
support. They have so shackled and hampered 



312 LETTERS. 

themselves, that they cannot extricate themselves. 
Merchants, who have given credit, are now suffer- 
ing, and that naturally creates ill-will and hard 
words. His Majesty and the ministry show every 
personal respect and civility which we have any 
right to expect. The Marquis de la Fayette writes, 
that he had always heard his Majesty was a great 
dissembler, but he never was so thoroughly con- 
vinced of it as by the reception given to the Amer- 
ican Minister. I wish their conduct with regard to 
our country was of a piece with that which they 
have shown to its representative. The Marquis of 
Carmarthen and Mr. Pitt appear to possess the 
most liberal ideas with respect to us, of any part of 
the ministry. With regard to the negroes, they are 
full and clear that they ought to be paid for ; but, as 
to the posts, they say the relinquishment of them 
must depend upon certain other matters, which you 
know they were not at liberty to explain in private 
conversation ; but it is no doubt they mean to keep 
them as a security for the payment of the debts, 
and as a rod over our heads. They think we are 
as little able to go to war as they are. The budget 
has not yet been officially opened. A generous 
treaty has been tendered them, upon which they 
are now pondering and brewing. The fate of the 
Irish propositions has thrown weight into the Amer- 
ican scale ; but there are so many bones of conten- 
tion between us, that snarling spirits will foment 
into rage, and cool ones kindle by repeated irrita- 



LETTERS. 313 

tion. It is astonishing, that this nation catch at 
every straw which swims, and delude themselves 
with the bubble that we are weary of our indepen- 
dence, and wish to return under their government 
again. They arc more actuated by these ideas in 
their whole system toward us, than by any generous 
plans, which would become them as able statesmen 
and a great nation. They think to effect their plans 
by prohibitory acts and heavy duties. A late act 
has passed, prohibiting the exportation of any tools 
of any kind. They say they can injure us much 
more than we can them, and they seem determined 
to try the experiment. Those, who look beyond the 
present moment, foresee the consequences, that this 
nation will never leave us until they drive us into 
power and greatness that will finally shake this 
kingdom. We must struggle hard first, and find 
many difficulties to encounter, but we may be a 
great and a powerful nation if we will. Industry 
and frugality, wisdom and virtue, must make us so. 
I think America is taking steps towards a reform, 
and I know her capable of whatever she undertakes. 
I hope you will never lose sight of her interests ; 
but make her welfare your study, and spend those 
hours, which others devote to cards and folly, in in- 
vestigating the great principles by which nations 
have risen to glory and eminence ; for your country 
will one day call for your services, either in the 
cabinet or field. Qualify yourself to do honor to 
her. 



314 LETTERS. 

You will probably hear, before this reaches you, 
of the extraordinary affair respecting the Cardinal 
Rohan. It is said that his confinement is in conse- 
quence of his making use of the Queen's name to 
get a diamond necklace of immense value into his 
hands. Others say it is in consequence of some re- 
flections cast upon the character of the Queen ; 
others suppose that the real fact is not known. I 
send you one newspaper account of the matter, 
and have not room to add more than that I am 
Your affectionate mother, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

London, 30 September, 1785. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

Your kind letters of July and August are before 
me. I thank you most sincerely for the particular 
manner in which you write. I go along with you, 
and take an interest in every transaction which con- 
cerns those I love ; and I enjoy more pleasure from 
those imaginary scenes than I do from the drawing- 
room at St. James's. In one, I feel myself your 
friend and equal. In the other, I know I am looked 
down upon with a sovereign pride, and the smile of 
royalty is bestowed as a mighty boon. As such, 
however, I cannot receive it. I know it is due to 
my country, and I consider myself as complimenting 
the power before which I appear as much as I am 



LETTERS. 315 

complimented by being noticed by it. With these 
ideas, you may be sure my countenance will never 
wear that suppliant appearance, which begs for 
notice. Consequently, I never expect to be a Court 
favorite. Nor would I ever again set my foot there, 
if the etiquette of my country did not require it. 
But, whilst I am in a public character, I must submit 
to the penalty ; for such I shall ever esteem it. 

You will naturally suppose that I have lately been 
much fatigued. This is very true. I attended the 
drawing-room last week, upon the anniversary of 
the coronation of their Majesties. The company 
were very brilliant, and her Majesty was stiff with 
diamonds ; the three eldest Princesses and the 
Prince of Wales were present. His Highness look- 
ed much better than when I saw him before. He is 
a stout, well-made man, and would look very well 
if he had not sacrificed so much to Bacchus. The 
Princess Elizabeth I never saw before. She is 
about fifteen ; a short, clumsy miss, and would not 
be thought handsome if she was not a princess. 
The whole family have one complexion, and all are 
inclined to be corpulent. I should know them in 
any part of the world. Notwithstanding the Eng- 
lish boast so much of their beauties, I do not think 
they have really so much of it as you will find 
amongst the same proportion of people in America. 
It is true that their complexions are undoubtedly 
fairer than the French, and in general their figure 



316 



LETTERS. 



is good. Of this they make the best ; but I have 
not seen a lady in England who can bear a com- 
parison with Mrs. Bingham, Mrs. Piatt, and a Miss 
Hamilton, who is a Philadelphia young lady. 
Amongst the most celebrated of their beauties 
stands the Duchess of Devonshire, who is masculine 
in her appearance. Lady Salisbury is small and 
genteel, but her complexion is bad ; and Lady Tal- 
bot is not a Mrs. Bingham, who, taken altogether, is 
the finest woman I ever saw. The intelligence of 
her countenance, or rather, I ought to say, anima- 
tion, the elegance of her form, and the affability of 
her manners, convert you into admiration ; and 
one has only to lament too much dissipation and 
frivolity of amusement, which have weaned her from 
her native country, and given her a passion and 
thirst after all the luxuries of Europe. 

The finest English woman I have seen is the 
eldest daughter of Mr. Dana, brother to our Mr. 
Dana ; he resides in the country, but was in London 
with two of his daughters, when I first came here. 
I saw her first at Ranelagh. I was struck with her 
appearance, and endeavoured to find who she was ; 
for she appeared like Calypso amongst her nymphs, 
delicate and modest. She was easily known from 
the crowd, as a stranger. I had not long admired 
her, before she was brought by her father and intro- 
duced to me, after which she made me a visit, with 
her sister, who was much out of health. At the 



LETTERS. 317 

same time that she has the hest title of any English 
woman I have seen to the rank of a divinity, I would 
not have it forgotten that her father is an American, 
and, as he was remarkably handsome, no doubt she 
owes a large share of her beauty to him. 

I dread to hear from my dear aunt, lest melan- 
choly tidings should reach me with respect to her. 
She is at the same critical period of life which 
proved fatal to Mrs. B. I will, however, hope that 
she may yet be spared to her friends. Though her 
health would never permit her to engage in the 
active business of her family, she was attentive to 
the interest and welfare of every individual of it. 
Like Sarah, she was always to be found in her tent. 
A more benevolent heart never inhabited a human 
breast. It was well-matched and seconded in a 
partner equally benevolent and humane, who has 
shared with us our former griefs, and will find us 
equally sympathetic towards himself, should so great 
a misfortune attend him as I fear. Indeed, I know 
not how to take my pen to write to him. I do not 
wonder that your heart was affected, or your spirits 
low, under the apprehension of losing one so de- 
servedly dear to us all. Should this ornament be 
broken from the original building, it will be ano:her 
memento to us of the frailty of the whole, and that 
duration depends not upon age. Yet who would 
desire to stand, the last naked pillar of the whole ? 
I believe our social affections strengthen by age ; 
as those objects and amusements which gratified our 



318 LETTERS. 

youthful years lose their relish, the social converse 
and society of friends becomes more necessary. 

"JNeedful auxiliars are our friends, to give 
To social man true relish of himself" 

But I must close, as I am going to dine to-day 
with my friend Mrs. Rogers, where I have given 
myself an invitation, the occasion of which I will 
reserve for the subject of another letter, and sub- 
scribe myself affectionately yours, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

London, 1 October, 1785. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

I TOLD you in my last, that I was going to dine with 
my friend Mrs. Rogers. You must know that yes- 
terday the whole diplomatic corps dined here ; that 
is, his Lordship the Marquis of Carmarthen, and all 
the foreign ministers, fifteen in all, and to-day the 
newspapers proclaim it. I believe they have as 
many spies here as the police of France. Upon 
these occasions, no ladies are admitted ; so I wrote 
a card and begged a dinner for myself and daugh- 
ter of Mrs. Rogers, where I know I am always 
welcome. 

It is customary to send out cards of invitation ten 
days beforehand. Our cards were gone out, and, as 
good luck would have it, Captain Hay returned from 
the West Indies, and presented us with a noble tur- 
tle, weighing a hundred and fourteen pounds, which 



LETTERS. 319 

was dressed upon this occasion. Though it gave us 
a good deal of pain to receive so valuable a present 
from thorn, yet we could not refuse it without af- 
fronting them, and it certainly happened at a most 
fortunate time. On Tuesday, they and a number 
of our American friends, and some of our English 
friends^ for I assure you we have a chosen few of 
that number, are to dine with us. 

This afternoon I have had a visit from Madame 
Pinto, the lady of the Portuguese minister. They 
have all visited now, and I have returned their vis- 
its ; but this is the only lady that I have seen. She 
speaks English tolerably, and appears an agreeable 
woman. She has lately returned to this country, 
from whence she has been five years absent. The 
Chevalier de Pinto has been minister here for many 
years. Some years hence it may be a pleasure to 
reside here in the character of American minister ; 
but, with the present salary and the present temper 
of the English, no one need envy the embassy. 
There would soon be fine work, if any notice was 
taken of their billingsgate and abuse ; but all their 
arrows rebound, and fall harmless to the ground. 
Amidst all their falsehoods, they have never insinu- 
ated a lisp against the private character of the 
American minister, nor in his public hne charged 
him with either want of abilities, honor, or integrity. 
The whole venom has been levelled against poor 
America ; and every efTort to make her appear 
ridiculous in the eyes of the nation. How would 



320 LETTERS. • 

they exult, if they could lay hold of any circum- 
stance, in either of our characters, to make us ap- 
pear ridiculous. 

I received a letter to-day from Mr. Jefferson, who 
"vvrites me that he had just received a parcel of 
English newspapers ; they " teem," says he, " with 
every horror of which nature is capable ; assassina- 
tion, suicide, thefts, robberies, and, what is worse 
than thefts, murder, and robbery, the blackest slan- 
ders ! Indeed, the man must be of rock who can 
stand all this. To Mv. Adams it will be but one 
victory the more. It would illy suit me. I do not 
love difficulties. I am fond of quiet ; willing to do 
my duty ; but irritable by slander, and apt to be 
forced by it to abandon my post. I fancy," says 
he, " it must be the quantity of animal food eaten 
by the English, which renders their character un- 
susceptible of civilization. I suspect that it is in 
their kitchens, and not in their churches, that their 
reformation must be worked, and that missionaries 
from hence would avail more than those who should 
endeavour to tame them by precepts of religion or 
philosophy." 

But he adds, " What do the foolish printers of 
America mean by retailing all this stuff in our pa- 
pers, as if it was not enough to be slandered by 
one's enemies, without circulating the slanders 
amongst one's friends too ? " 

I could tell Mr. Jefferson that I doubt not there 
are persons in America equally gratified with them 



LETTERS. 321 

as the English, and that from a spirit of envy. But 
these open attacks are nothing to the secret and sub- 
tile enemies Mr. Adams has had heretofore to en- 
counter. In Mr. Jefferson he has a firm and faithful 
friend, with whom he can consult and advise ; and, 
as each of them has no object but the good of their 
country in view, they have an unlimited confidence 
in each otlier ; and they have only to lament that 
the Channel divides their more frequent intercourse. 

You ask me whether I must tarry out three 
years. Heaven only knows what may be the re- 
sult of one. If any probability appears of accom- 
plishing any thing, 'tis likely we may tarry. I am 
sure that it will be a labor, if not of love, yet of 
much perplexity and difficulty. The immense debt, 
due from the mercantile part of America to this 
country, sours this people beyond measure, and 
greatly distresses thousands, who never were nor 
ever will be politicians, — the manufacturers, — 
who supplied the merchants, and depend upon them 
for remittances. Indeed, I pity their situation. At the 
same time, I think our countrymen greatly to blame 
for getting a credit, that many of them have taken 
no pains to preserve, but have thoughtlessly rioted 
upon the property of others. 

And this, among other things, makes our situation 
very disagreeable, and the path very diflicult for 
negotiation. 

Adieu. Yours affectionately, 

A. A. 

21 



322 LETTERS. 



TO MRS. SHAW. 

London, 4 March, 1786. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

I SELDOM feel a sufficient stimulus for writing until I 
hear that a vessel is just about to sail, and then I 
find myself so deep in debt, that I know not where 
to begin to discharge the account ; but it is time for 
me to be a little more provident ; for, upon looking 
into my list, I find I have no less than eighteen cor- 
respondents, who have demands upon me. One 
needs to have a more fruitful fund than I am possess- 
ed of, to pay half these in sterling bullion. I fear 
many will find too great a quantity of alloy to be 
pleased with the traffic. 

I think, in one of my letters to you last autumn, 
I promised to give you some account of the cele- 
brated actress, Mrs. Siddons, whom I was then 
going to see. You may well suppose my expecta- 
tions were very high; but her circumstances were 
such then as prevented her from exerting that force 
of passion, and that energy of action, which have 

rendered her so justly celebrated You will 

suppose that she ought not to have appeared at all 
upon the stage. I should have thought so too, if I 
had not seen her ; but she had contrived her dress 
in such a manner as wholly to disguise her situa- 
tion ; and chose only those tragedies where little 
exertion was necessary. The first piece I saw her 



LETTERS. 323 

in was Shakspeare's " Othello." She was interest- 
ing beyond any actress I had ever seen ; but I lost 
much of the pleasure of the play, from the sooty 
appearance of the Moor. Perhaps it may be early 
prejudice ; but I could not separate the African color 
from the man, nor prevent that disgust and horror 
which filled my mind every time I saw him touch 
the gentle Desdemona ; nor did I wonder that Bra- 
bantio thought some love potion or some witchcraft 
had been practised to make his daughter fall in love 
with what she scarcely dared to look upon. 

I have been more pleased with her since in sev- 
eral other characters, particularly in Matilda in " The 
Carmelite," a play which 1 send you for your amuse- 
ment. Much of Shakspeare's language is so un- 
couth that it sounds very harsh. He has beauties 
which are not equalled ; but I should suppose they 
might be rendered much more agreeable for the 
stage by alterations. I saw Mrs. Siddons a few 
evenings ago in " Macbeth," a play, you recollect, 
full of horror. She supported her part with great 
propriety ; but she is too great to be put in so detest- 
able a character. I have not yet seen her in her 
most pathetic characters, which are Jane Shore, 
Belvidera in "Venice Preserved," and Isabella in 
" The Fatal Marriage." For you must make as 
much interest here to get a box when she plays, as 
to get a place at Court ; and they are usually ob- 
tained in the same way. It would be very difficult 
to find the thing in this country which money will 
not purchase, provided you can bribe high enough. 



324 LETTERS. 

What adds much to the merit of Mrs. Siddons, is 
her virtuous character ; slander itself never having 
slurred it. She is married to a man who bears a 
good character ; but his name and importance are 
wholly swallowed up in her fame. She is the mother 
of five children ; but from her looks you would not 
imagine her more than twenty-five years old. She 
is happy in having a brother who is one of the best 
tragic actors upon the stage, and always plays the 
capital parts with her ; so that both her husband 
and the virtuous part of the audience can see them 
in the tenderest scenes without once fearing for 
their reputation. I scribble to you upon these sub- 
jects, yet fear they do not give you the pleasure I 
wish to communicate ; for it is with the stage as 
with Yorick's " Sentimental Journey," — no person 
can have an equal relish for it with those who have 
been in the very place described. 

I can, however, inform you of something which 
will be more interesting to you, because it is the 
work of one of our own countrymen, and of one of 
the most important events of the late war. Mr. 
Trumbull has made a painting of the battle at 
Charlestown, and the death of General Warren. To 
speak of its merit, I can only say that in looking at 
it my whole frame contracted, my blood shivered, 
and I felt a faintness at my heart. He is the first 
painter who has undertaken to immortalize by his 
pencil those great actions, that gave birth to our 
nation. By this means he will not only secure his 



LETTERS. 325 

own fame, but transmit to posterity characters and 
actions which will command the admiration of future 
ages, and prevent the period which gave birth to 
them from ever passing away into the dark abyss of 
time. At the same time, he teaches mankind that it 
is not rank nor titles, but character alone, which in- 
terests posterity. Yet, notwithstanding the pencil 
of a Trumbull and the historic pen of a Gordon and 
others, many of the component parts of the great 
whole will finally be lost. Instances of patience, 
perseverance, fortitude, magnanimity, courage, hu- 
manity, and tenderness, which would have graced 
the Roman character, are known only to those who 
were themselves the actors, and whose modesty will 
not suffer them to blazon abroad their own fame. 
These, however, will be engraven by Yorick's re- 
cording angel upon unftiding tablets, in that reposi- 
tory, where a just estimate will be made both of 
principles and actions. 

Your letters of September and January I have 
received with much pleasure, and am happy to find 
that the partiality of a parent with regard to a very 
dear son, had not lessened him in the eyes of his 
friends ; for praises are often so many inquisitors, 
and always a tax where they are lavished. I think 
I may with justice say, that a due sense of moral 
obligation, integrity, and honor, are the predominant 
traits of his character ; and these are good founda- 
tions, upon which one may reasonably build hopes of 
future usefulness. The longjer I live in the world, 



326 LETTERS. 

and the more I see of mankind, the more deeply I 
am impressed with the importance and necessity of 
good principles and virtuous examples being placed 
before youth, in the most amiable and engaging 
manner, whilst the mind is uncontaminated, and 
open to impressions. Yet precept without example 
is of little avail, for habits of the mind are produced 
by the exertion of inward practical principles. The 
" soul's calm sunshine " can result only from the 
practice of virtue, which is congenial to our natures. 
If happiness is not the immediate consequence of 
virtue, as some devotees to pleasure affirm, yet they 
will find that virtue is the indispensable condition of 
happiness ; and, as the poet expresses it, 

'' Peace, O Virtue ! peace is all thy own." 

But I will quit this subject, lest my good brother 
should think I have invaded his province, and sub- 
scribe myself 

Your sister, 

A. A. 



TO MISS LUCY CRANCH. 

London, 2 April, 1786. 

Your kind letter, my dear niece, was received 
with much pleasure. These tokens of love and re- 
gard which I know flow from the heart, always find 
their way to mine, and give me a satisfaction and 
pleasure beyond any thing which the ceremony and 
pomp of courts and kingdoms can afford. The so- 



LETTERS. 327 

cial affections are and may be nnade the truest 
channels for our pleasures and comforts to flow 
through. Heaven formed us not for ourselves but 
others, 

" And bade self-love and social be the same." 

Perhaps there is no country where there is a 
fuller exercise of those virtues than ours at present 
exhibits, which is in a great measure owing to the 
equal distribution of property, the small number of 
inhabitants in proportion to its territory, the equal 
distribution of justice to the poor as well as the 
rich, to a government founded in justice and exer- 
cised with impartiality, and to a religion which 
teaches peace and good will to man ; to knowledge 
and learning being so easily acquired and so uni- 
versally distributed ; and to that sense of moral obli- 
gation which generally inclines our countrymen to 
do to others as they would that others should do to 
them. Perhaps you will think that I allow to them 
more than they deserve, but you will consider that I 
am only speaking comparatively. Human nature is 
much the same in all countries, but it is the govern- 
ment, the laws, and religion, which form the charac- 
ter of a nation. Wherever luxury abounds, there 
you will find corruption and degeneracy of manners. 
Wretches that we are, thus to misuse the bounties of 
Providence, to forget the hand that blesses us, and 
even deny the source from whence we derived our 
being. 

But I grow too serious. To amuse you, then, my 



328 LETTERS. 

dear niece, I will give you an account of the dress 
of the ladies at the ball of the Comte d'Adhemar ; 
as your cousin tells me that she some time ago gave 
you a history of the birth-day and ball at Court, this 
may serve as a counterpart. Though, should I at- 
tempt to compare the apartments, St. James's would 
fall as much short of the French Ambassador's, as 
the Court of his Britannic Majesty does of the splen- 
dor and magnificence of that of his Most Christian 
Majesty. I am sure I never saw an assembly room 
in America, which did not exceed that at St. 
James's in point of elegance and decoration ; and, 
as to its fair visiters, not all their blaze of diamonds 
set off with Parisian rouge, can match the blooming 
health, the sparkling eye, and modest deportment of 
the dear girls of my native land. As to the dancing, 
the space they had to move in gave them no op- 
portunity to display the grace of a minuet, and the 
full dress of long court-trains and enormous hoops, 
you well know w^ere not favorable for country 
dances, so that I saw them at every disadvantage ; not 
so the other evening. They were much more prop- 
erly clad ; — silk waists, gauze or white or painted 
tiffany coats decorated with ribbon, beads or flowers, 
as fancy directed, were chiefly worn by the young 
ladies. Hats turned up at the sides with diamond 
loops and buttons of steel, large bows of ribbons 
and wreaths of flowers, displayed themselves to 
much advantage upon the heads of some of the 
prettiest girls England can boast. The light from 



LETTERS. 329 

the lustres is more favorable to beauty than daylight, 
and the color acquired by dancing, more becoming 
than rouge, as fancy dresses are more favorable to 
youth than the formality of a uniform. There was 
as great a variety of pretty dresses, borrowed wholly 
from France, as I have ever seen ; and amongst the 
rest, some with sapphire-blue satin waists, spangled 
with silver, and laced down the back and seams with 
silver stripes ; white satin petticoats trimmed with 
black and blue velvet ribbon ; an odd kind of head- 
dress, which they term the " helmet of Minerva." I 
did not observe the bird of wisdom, however, nor do 
I know whether those who wore the dress had suit- 
able pretensions to it. " And pray," say you, " how 
were my aunt and cousin dressed ?" If it will gratify 
you to know, you shall hear. Your aunt, then, wore 
a full-dress court cap without the lappets, in which 
M'as a wreath of v/hite flowers, and blue sheafs, two 
black and blue flat feathers (which cost her half a 
guinea a-piece, but that you need not tell of), three 
pearl pins, bought for Court, and a pair of pearl ear- 
rings, the cost of them — no matter what; less than 
diamonds, however. A sapphire blue demi-saison 
with a satin stripe, sack and petticoat trimmed with 
a broad black lace ; crape flounce, &c. ; leaves 
made of blue ribbon, and trimmed with white floss ; 
wreaths of black velvet ribbon spotted with steel 
beads, which are much in fashion, and brought to 
such perfection as to resemble diamonds ; white 
ribbon also in the Vandyke style, made up of the 



330 LETTERS. 

trimming, which looked very elegant ; a full dress 
handkerchief, and a bouquet of roses. " Full gay, I 
think, for my aunt.'''' That is true, Lucy, but nobody 
is old in Europe. I was seated next the Duchess of 
Bedford, who had a scarlet satin sack and coat, with 
a cushion full of diamonds, for hair she has none, 
and is hut seventy-six^ neither. Well, now for your 
cousin ; a small, wiiite Leghorn hat, bound with 
pink satin ribbon; a steel buckle and band which 
turned up at the side, and confined a large pink bow ; 
large bow of the same kind of ribbon behind ; a 
wreath of full-blown roses round the crown, and 
another of buds and roses withinside the hat, which 
being placed at the back of the hair, brought the roses 
to the edge ; you see it clearly ; one red and black 
feather, with two white ones, completed the head- 
dress. A gown and coat of Chamberi gauze, with 
a red satin stripe over a pink waist, and coat flounced 
with crape, trim.med with broad point and pink rib- 
bon ; wreaths of roses across the coat ; gauze sleeves 
and ruffles. But the poor girl was so sick with a 
cold, that she could not enjoy herself, and we re- 
tired about one o'clock without waiting supper, by 
which you have lost half a sheet of paper, I dare 
say ; but I cannot close without describing to you 

Lady N and her daughter. She is as large as 

Captain C 's wife, and much such a made wo- 
man, whh a much fuller face, of the color and com- 
plexion of Mrs. C , who formerly lived with your 

uncle Palmer, and looks as if porter and beef stood 



LETTERS. 331 

no chance before her ; add to ibis, that it is covered 
with large red pimples, over which, to help the nat- 
ural redness, a coat of rouge is spread ; and, to 
assist her shape, she was dressed in white satin, 

trimmed with scarlet ribbon. Miss N is not so 

large, nor quite so red, bi.t has a very small eye with 
the most impudent face you can possibly form an 
idea of, joined to manners so masculine, that I was 
obliged frequently to recollect that line of Dr. 
Young's, 

" Believe her dress ; she 's not a grenadier/' 

to persuade myself that I was not mistaken. 

Thus, my dear girl, you have an account which 
perhaps may amuse you a little. You must excuse 
my not copying ; I fear, now, I shall not get nearly 
all my letters ready, — my pen very bad, as you see ; 
and I am engaged three days this week, — to a rout 
at the Baroness de Nolkens's, the Swedish minister's, 
to a ball on Thursday evening, and to a dinner on 
Saturday. Do not fear that your aunt will become 
dissipated, or in love with European manners ; but, 
as opportunity offers, I wish to see this European 
world in all its forms that I can with decency. I 
still moralize with Yorick, or with one more expe- 
rienced, and say " Vanity of vanities, all is vani;y.' 
Adieu, and believe me yours, 

A. Adams. 



• 

332 LETTERS. 



TO MRS. CRAKCH. 

London, 6 April, 1786. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

Although I was at a stupid rout at the Swedish 
minister's last evening, I got home about twelve, 
and rose early this morning to get a few things 
ready to send out by Lyde. When a body has at- 
tended one of these parties, you know the whole of 
the entertainment. There were about two hundred 
persons present last evening. Three large rooms 
full of card-tables ; the moment the ceremony of 
curtseying is past, the lady of the house asks you, 
" Pray, what is your game ; whist, cribbage, or com- 
merce ? " And then the next thing is to hunt round 
the room for a set to make a party ; and, as the com- 
pany are coming and going from eight till two in 
the morning, you may suppose that she has enough 
to employ her from room to room.. The lady and 
her daughter last nio-ht were almost fatigued to 
death, for they had been out the night before till 
morning, and were toiling at pleasure for seven 
hours, in which time they scarcely sat down. I 
went with a determination not to play, but could not 
get off; so I was set down to a table with three per- 
fect strangers, and the lady who was against me 
stated the game at half a guinea a-piece. I told 
her I thought it full high ; but I knew she designed 
to win, so I said no more, but expected to lose. It 



LETTERS. 333 

however happened otherwise. I won four games of 
her. I then paid for the cards, which is the custom 
here, and left her to attack others, which she did, at 
three other tables, where she amply made up her 
loss. In short, she was an old, experienced hand, 
and it was the luck of the cards rather than skill, 
though I have usually been fortunate, as it is termed ; 
but I never play when I can possibly avoid it, for I 
have not conquered the disagreeable feeling of re- 
ceiving money for play. But such a set of gamblers 
as the ladies here are ! and such a life as they lead ! 
Good Heavens ! were reasonable beings made for 
this ? 1 v/ill come and shelter myself in America 
from this scene of dissipation, and upbraid me when- 
ever I introduce the like amongst you. Yet here 
you cannot live with any character of consequence, 
unless you give in some measure into the ton. 

Mr. Adams is gone to accompany Mr. Jefferson 
into the country to some of the most celebrated gar- 
dens. This is the first tour he has made since I first 
came abroad ; during which time we have lived 
longer unseparated than we have ever done before 
since we were married. 

Adieu. Your sister, 

A. A. 



334 LETTERS. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

London, 21 May, 1786. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

I WISH I had one of my nieces with me whilst I 
remain in this country ; but it will not be long be- 
fore I shall quit it. Not ten days ago I expected to 
have taken my passage in the July packet, in conse- 
quence of some intelligence which afterwards wore 
a different appearance ; things are so fluctuating 
upon both sides the water, that it is really difficult to 
draw up conclusions. Prussia has treated, Portugal 
has treated, and the Emperor's minister has just re- 
ceived powers to treat also ; but, very unfortunately, 
the joint commission of the American ministers ex- 
pired this month, so that nothing can be concluded 
until new powers arrive. Whoever has any thing to 
do with courts, must have patience for their first, 
second, and third requisites. I wish I was well out 
of the way of all of them. My object is to return 
to America early next spring, if nothing arises to 
oblige us to take this step sooner. I cannot think of 
a fall passage. Of this, I shall be better informed 
in a few weeks. But there is no office more unde- 
sirable than that of Minister of the United States ; 
under the present embarrassments, there is no rep- 
utation to be acquired, and there is much to lose. 
Negotiations with other powers may be and have 
been effected ; but with England there is not the 



LETTERS. 335 

least probability of a treaty, until the States are 
united in their measures, and invest Congress with 
full powers for the regulation of commerce. A 
minister here can be of very little service until that 
event takes place. It is true, he may be invested 
with other powers, and one, more important than 
treating with this country, is, making peace with the 
Barbary States ; but as Mr. Adams foretold, so it has 
turned out. Lamb is returning without being able to 
effect any thing. The Dey would not even see him, 
and the demand for the poor fellows who are in 
captivity is a thousand dollars per man, and there 
are twenty-one of them. The sum allotted by Con- 
gress is so inadequate to the thing, that we must 
look only for war upon us. Unless Congress en- 
deavour to borrow the sum demanded, and treat im- 
mediately, their demands will increase in proportion 
to the captures they make ; but of all this they are 
regularly and fully informed. You will not, how- 
ever, make these matters known till you hear them 
from some other quarter. These are dull subjects 
for one lady to write to another upon ; but our coun- 
try is so much interested in these affairs, that you 
must excuse me for troubling you with them, and 
you can communicate with discretion. 

I thank you most sincerely for all your kindness 
to my dear sons, and hope they will ever bear a 
grateful remembrance of it ; the account you give 
of their behaviour and conduct is such as I hope 
they merit. The idea that their success in life de- 



336 LETTERS. 

pends upon their diligence and application to their 
studies, and a modest and virtuous deportment, cannot 
be too strongly impressed upon their minds. The 
foolish idea in which some of our youth are educated, 
of being born gentlemen, is the most ridiculous in 
the world for a country like ours. It is the mind 
and manners which make the gentleman, and not 
the estate. There is no man with us so rich as to 
breed up a family in idleness, with ideas of paternal 
inheritance, and far distant may that day be from 
our land ; he who is not in some way or other useful 
to society, is a drone in the hive, and ought to be 
hunted down accordingly. I have very different 
ideas of the wealth of my countrymen from what I 
had when I left. Much of that wealth has proved 
fallacious, and their debts exceed their property. 
Economy and industry may retrieve their affairs. I 
know that the country is capable of great exertions ; 
but, in order to this, they must curtail their ideas 
of luxury and refinement, according to their ability. 
I do not believe any country exceeds them in the 
article of dress. In houses, in furniture, in gardens 
and pleasure-grounds, and in equipage, the wealth of 
France and England is displayed to a high pitch of 
grandeur and magnificence ; but, when I reflect upon 
the thousands who are starving, and the millions who 
are loaded whh taxes to support this pomp and show, 
I look to my happier country with an enthusiastic 
warmth, and pray for the continuance of that equali- 
ty of rank and fortune which forms so large a por- 
tion of our happiness. 



LETTERS. 337 

I yesterday dined at the Bishop of Saint Asaph's, 
in company with Dr. Priestley and Dr. Price and 
some strangers. The Bishop's character is well 
known and respected, as a friend to America, and 
justly does he deserve the character of a liberal 
man. He is polite, affable, and consequently agree- 
able. He has a lady and an unmarried daughter, 
both of whom are well-bred, according to my ideas ; 
according to British ideas, good breeding consists in 
an undaunted air and a fearless, not to say bold, ad- 
dress and appearance. The old lady is both sensi- 
ble and learned, quite easy and . social ; the young 
one is modest and attentive. This is a family, the 
friendship and acquaintance of which I should like 
to cultivate. 

Dr. Priestley is a gentleman of a pale complexion, 
spare habit, placid, thoughtful countenance, and 
very few words. I heard him preach for Dr. Price. 
His delivery is not equal to the matter of his dis- 
courses. I dined twice in company with the Doctor, 
and was mortified that I could not have more of his 
company at our own house, but he was engaged 
every moment of his time whilst in London. I be- 
lieve I have frequently mentioned Dr. Price ; he is a 
good and amiable man, a little inclined to lowness 
of spirits, which partly arises from the melancholy 
state of Mrs. Price, who two years ago had a para- 
lytic stroke, and has been helpless ever since. 
Believe me yours affectionately, 

A. A. 

22 



338 LETTERS. 



TO BUSS LUCY CRANCH. 

London, 20 July, 1786. 

MY DEAR NIECE, 

My fourth letter I begin to you. I dare not reckon 
the number I have to write ; lest I should feel dis- 
couraged in the attempt, I must circumscribe my- 
self to half a sheet of paper. Raree-shows are so 
much the taste of this country, that they make one 
even of the corpse of great people ; and the other 
day a gentleman presented me with a card to go 
and see the corpse of the Duke of Northumberland, 
who died at his house in the country, but was 
brought here to be laid in state. " It is," said he, 
" a senseless piece of pageantry ; but, as such, I 
would advise you to see it." It is practised only 
with crowned heads, and some of the most ancient 
families of Dukes. The late Duke was father to 
Lord Percy, whom the Americans well remember. 
His Lordship (who lives a few doors from us), be- 
ing the elder son, inherits the title and estate, and is 
now Duke of Northumberland. 

Northumberland House is in the city. A great, 
immense pile of building, to which one enters through 
massy iron gates. At these gates stood four porters, 
clad in black ; the court, up to the house, was hung 
in black, and divided by a temporary railing, that 
the spectators might pass in upon one side, and out 
upon the other. From the court we entered a long 



LETTERS. 339 

suite of rooms, five in number, through rows of ser- 
vants, one each side of us, all sabled as well as 
the rooms. I never before understood that line of 
Pope's, 

" When Hopkins dies, a thousand lights attend." 

I believe there were two thousand here, for day- 
light was totally excluded. Upon the walls were as 
many escutcheons as candles. These are formed so 
as to place a light in each. These plates are all 
washed with silver ;' being put upon the black cloth 
and lighted in this manner, they gave the rooms a 
tomb-like appearance ; for in this manner are the 
tombs of the dead enhghtened in Catholic countries, 
and it is not uncommon for the great to leave a 
large sum of money for lights to be kept constantly 
burning. Through these rooms we moved, with a 
slow pace and a solemn silence, into that which 
contained the corpse. Here, upon a superb bed of 
state, surrounded with twenty-four wax lights, upon 
enormous silver candlesticks, lay the remains of his 
Grace, as I presume, but so buried amidst stars and 
garters, and the various insignia of the different 
offices he sustained, that he might as well have 
been at Sion House, for all that one could see of 
him ; for these ornaments are displayed like the 

flags, 

" The George and garter dangling from the bed, 
Where gaudy yellow strove with flaming red." 

Upon the bolster lay the ducal coronet, and round 
the bed stood a dozen men in black, whom they call 



340 LETTERS. 

mutes. It was said that the corpse was clothed in a 
white satin tunic, and cap richly trimmed with 
blonde lace ; but for this I cannot vouch, though I 
do not think it more ridiculous than the other parts 
of the parade which I saw ; and this farce was kept 
up two days. The body was then deposited in 
Westminster Abbey, with as much parade and show 
as possible ; but, being out of town, I did not see it. 
We made an excursion as far as Portsmouth, 
which lies about seventy-five miles from London. I 
was much disappointed in the appearance of the 
country, great part of it being only barren heath. 
Within eighteen miles of the town, it appears fruitful 
and highly cultivated. We spent only one day at 
Portsmouth, but returned by another road, which 
brought us back through Windsor. Here we stopped 
a day and a half, and I was charmed and delighted 
with it. The most luxuriant fancy cannot exceed the 
beauties of this place. I do not wonder that Pope 
styled it the seat of the Muses. Read his " Wind- 
sor Forest," and give full credit to his most poetic 
flights. The road by which we entered the town 
was from the top of a very steep hill ; from this hill, 
a lawn presents itself on each side. Before you, a 
broad, straight road, three miles in length ; upon 
each side a double plantation of lofty elms lift their 
majestic heads, which is exceeded only by a view of 
the still grander forest, at a distance, which is thirty 
miles in circumference. From this hill you have a 
view of the Castle and the town. This place, as in 



LETTERS. 341 

former days, is the retreat of the monarch. The 
royal family reside here nine months of the year, 
not in the Castle, as that would require the atten- 
dance of ministers, &c. The present Queen has 
a neat lodge here, close to the Castle ; and there 
is another, a few rods distant, for the Princesses. 
His Majesty is a visiter to the Queen, and the family 
reside here with as little parade as that of a private 
gentleman. It is the etiquette, that none of his 
Majesty's ministers approach him upon business 
here. Despatches are sent by messengers, and 
answers returned in the same way. He holds his 
levees twice a week, in town. The Castle is one of 
the strongest places in Europe, as it is said, and a 
safe retreat for the family in case any more revolu- 
tions should shake this kingdom. It was first built 
by Edward the Third. Charles the Second kept 
his Court here during the summer months, and 
spared no expense to render it worthy the royal 
residence. He furnished it richly, and decorated it 
with paintings by the first masters. It is situated 
upon a high hill, which rises by a gentle ascent, 
and enjoys a most delightful prospect round it. In 
front is a wide and extensive vale, adorned with 
fields and meadows, with groves on either side, 
and the calm, smooth water of the Thames running 
through them. Behind it are hills, covered with 
fine forests, as if designed by nature for hunting. 
The terrace round the Castle is a noble walk, 
covered with fine gravel. It is raised on a steep de- 



342 LETTERS. 

clivity of a hill, and overlooks the whole town. 
Here the King and royal family walk on Sunday 
afternoons, in order to show themselves to those of 
their subjects who choose to repair to Windsor for 
that purpose. In fine weather the terrace is gen- 
erally thronged. From the top of this tower on the 
Castle, they showed us thirteen different counties. 
To describe to you the apartments, the paintings 
and decorations within this Castle, would require a 
volume instead of a letter. I shall mention only 
two rooms ; and the first is that called the Queen's 
bed-chamber, where, upon the top of the ceiling, is 
painted the story of Diana and Endymion. The 
bed of state was put up by her Majesty ; the inside 
and counterpanes are of white satin, the curtains of 
pea green, richly embroidered by a Mrs. Wright, 
embroiderer to her Majesty. There is a full length 
picture of the Queen, with her fourteen children in 
miniature, in the same piece, taken by Mr. West. It 
is a very handsome likeness of her. The next room 
is called " the room of beauties " ; so named for the 
portraits of the most celebrated beauties in the reign 
of Charles the Second. They are fourteen in number. 
There is also Charles's Queen, a very handsome wo- 
man. The dress of many of them is in the style 
of the present day. Here is also Queen Caroline's 
china closet, filled with a great variety of curious 
china, elegantly disposed. 

I have come now to the bottom of the last page. 



LETTERS. 343 

If I have amused my dear niece, it will give great 
pleasure to her affectionate aunt. 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

London, 12 September, 1786. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

I AM again safe arrived in this city, after an absence 
of five weeks. By the last vessels, I wrote some of 
my friends that I was going to visit Holland. That 
I had a desire to see that country you will not 
wonder at, as one of those theatres, upon which my 
partner and fellow-traveller had exhibited some of 
his most important actions, and rendered to his 
country lasting blessings. It has been the policy of 
some of our allies to keep, as much as possible, 
these events out of sight, and of some of our coun- 
trymen to lessen their value in the eyes of mankind. 
I have seen two Histories of the American war, 
written in French, and one lately published in Eng- 
lish by a Mr. Andrews. In one of them, no notice 
is taken, or mention made, of our alliance with Hol- 
land, and the two others mention it as slightly as 
possible ; and our own countrymen set them the 
example. France, to be sure, was the first to ac- 
knowledge our independence, and to aid us with 
men and money, and ought always to be first rank- 
ed amongst our friends ; but Holland, surely, ought 
not to be totally neglected. From whence have we 



344 LETTERS. 

drawn our supplies for these five years past, even to 
pay to France the interest upon her loan, and where 
else could we now look in case of a pressing emer- 
gency ? Yet have I observed, in sermons upon 
public occasions, in orations, &c., France is always 
mentioned with great esteem, Holland totally neg- 
lected. This is neither policy nor justice. I have 
been led to a more particular reflection upon this 
subject, from my late visit to that country. The 
respect, attention, civility, and politeness, which we 
received from that people, wherever we went, was 
a striking proof, not only of their personal esteem, 
but of the ideas they entertain with respect to the 
revolution which gave birth to their connexion with 
us, and laid, as they say, the foundation for their 
restoration to privileges, which had been wrested 
from them, and which they are now exerting them- 
selves to recover. The spirit of liberty appears to 
be all alive in them ; but whether they will be able 
to accomplish their views, without a scene of blood 
and carnage, is very doubtful. 

As to the country, I do not wonder that Swift 
gave it the name of " Nick Frog," though I do not 
carry the idea so far as some, who insist that the 
people resemble the frog in the shape of their faces 
and the form of their bodies. They appear to 
be a well-fed, well-clothed, contented, happy people. 
Very few objects of wretchedness present them- 
selves to your view, even amidst the immense con- 
course of people in the city of Amsterdam. They 



LETTERS. 345 

have many public institutions which do honor to 
humanity, and to the particular directors of them. 
The money allotted to benevolent purposes is ap- 
plied solely to the benefit of the charities, instead of 
being wasted and expended in public dinners to the 
guardians of them, which is said to be the case too 
much in this country. The civil government, or 
police, must be well regulated, since rapine, murder, 
and robbery are very seldom found amongst them. 
The Exchange of Amsterdam is a great curiosity. 
As such, they carried me to see it. I was with Mr. 
Van Staphorst ; and, though the crowd of people 
was immense, I met with no difficulty in passing 
through, every person opening a passage for me. 
The Exchange is a large square, surrounded with 
a piazza. Here, from twelve till two o'clock, all 
and every person who has business of any kind 
to transact, meet, sure of finding the person they 
want; and it is not unusual to see ten thousand 
persons collected at once. I was in a chamber 
above the Exchange ; the buzz from below was 
like the swarming of bees. The most important 
places which I visited, were Rotterdam, Delft, the 
Hague, Leyden, Haerlem, Amsterdam, and Utrecht. 
I went through many other villages and towns ; the 
names I do not recollect. I was eight days at the 
Hague, and visited every village round it, amongst 
which is Scheveling, a place famous for the em- 
barkation of King Charles. From Utrecht I visited 
Zest, a small town belonging wholly to the Mora- 



346 LETTERS. 

vians, who maintain the same doctrines with the Mo- 
ravians at Bethlehem, in Pennsylvania, but which 
are not the best calculated for fulfilling the great 
command of replenishing the earth. I visited Gou- 
da, and saw the most celebrated paintings upon 
glass which are to be found. These were immense 
windows, reaching from the top to the bottom of a 
very high church, and containing Scripture history. 
Neither the faces nor attitudes had any thing strik- 
ing ; but the colors, which had stood for near two hun- 
dred years, were beautiful beyond imagination. From 
Amsterdam, we made a party one day to Saardam, 
a few hours' sail only. It was their annual fair, and 
I had an opportunity of seeing the people in their 
holiday suits. This place is famous for being the 
abode of the Czar Peter, whose ship-carpenter's 
shop they still show. At every place of note, I visit- 
ed the cabinets of paintings and natural history, and 
all the public buildings of distinction, as well as the 
seats of several private gentlemen, and the Prince 
of Orange's house at the Hague, where he holds his 
court during the summer months ; but the difference, 
which subsists between him and the States, occa- 
sioned his retreat to Loo. Consequently I had no 
opportunity of being presented to that Court. We 
were invited to dine one day at Sir James Harris's, 
the British minister at that Court, who appears a 
very sensible, agreeable man. Lady Harris, who is 
about twenty-four years old, may be ranked with 
the first of English beauties. She was married at 



LETTERS. 347 

seventeen, and has four fine children ; but, though 
very pretty, her Ladyship has no dignity in her man- 
ners, nor solidity in her deportment. She rather 
seems of the good-humored, giggling class, — a 
mere trifler ; at least, I saw nothing to the con- 
trary. I supped at the Marquis de Verac's, the 
French Ambassador's, with about fifty gentlemen 
and ladies. His own lady is dead. He has a daugh- 
ter-in-law, who usually lives with him, but was now 
absent in France. 

Upon the whole, I was much gratified with my 
excursion to a country, which cannot show its like 
again. The whole appearance of it is that of a 
meadow. What are called the dikes, are the roads, 
which, being raised, separate the canals. Upon 
these you ride, through rows of willow trees upon 
each side. Not a hill to be seen. It is all a con- 
tinued plain, so that trees, meadows, and canals, 
canals, trees, and meadows, are the unvaried scene. 
The houses are all brick, and the streets are paved 
with brick. It is very unusual to see a single square 
of glass broken, or a brick out of place, even in the 
meanest house. They paint every piece of wood 
within and without their houses ; and, what I thought 
not so wholesome, their milk-pails are painted, with- 
in and without, and so are their horse-carts ; but it 
is upon a principle of economy. The country is 
exceeding fruitful, and every house has a garden 
spot, plentifully stored with vegetables. The dress 
of all the country people is precisely the same thal^ J||J^" 



348 LETTERS. 

it was two hundred years ago, and has been handed 
down from generation to generation unimpaired. 
You recollect the short petticoats, and long short- 
gowns, round-eared caps with straight borders, and 
large straw hats, which the German women wore 
when they first settled at Germantown. Such is 
now the dress of all the lower class of people, who 
do not even attempt to imitate the gentry. I was 
pleased with the trig neatness of the women ; many 
of them wear black tammy aprons, thick quilted 
coats, or russet skirts, and small hoops ; but only 
figure to yourself a child of three or four, dressed 
in the same way. They cut a figure, I assure you. 
Gold ear-rings are universally worn by them, and 
bracelets upon holidays. The dress of the men 
is full as old-fashioned ; but the Court and genteel 
people dress part English and part French. They 
generally speak both the languages, but French 
most. Since their intercourse with America, the 
English language is considered as an essential part 
of education. I would not omit to mention that I 
visited the church at Leyden, in which our fore- 
fathers worshipped, when they fled from hierarchi- 
cal tyranny and persecution. I felt a respect and 
veneration upon entering the doors, like what the 
ancients paid to their Druids. 

Upon my return home, I found that Captain 
Gushing had arrived in my absence, and a noble 
packet was handed to me by your niece soon after 
I arrived ; but, as we had not seen each other for 



LETTEKS. 349 

five weeks, we had much to say ; and, in addition to 
that, I had not closed my eyes for two days and 
nights, having had a stormy, boisterous passage of 
three days, attended with no small danger ; and, as I 
had rode seventy-five miles that day, they all voted 
against my opening my letters that night. Mortify- 
ing as it was, I submitted, being almost light-headed 
with want of rest, and fatigue. But I rose early the 
next morning and read them all before breakfast ; 
and here let me thank my dear sister for the enter- 
tainment hers afforded me ; but, like most of the 
scenes of life, the pleasure was mixed with pain. 
The account of the death of our dear and worthy 
aunt reached me in a letter from cousin W. Smith, 
the week before I went my journey. Although I 
took a final leave of her when I quitted America, 
yet I have been willing to flatter myself with the 
hope that I might be mistaken, and that her life 
would be prolonged beyond my expectations. How 
often has her image appeared to my mind in the 
same form in which she addressed me when I left her 
house. You know how susceptible her heart was 
to every tender impression. She saw how much I 
was distressed, and strove herself for a magnanimity 
that gave to her whole appearance a placid solemni- 
ty which spoke more forcibly than words. There 
was a something indescribable, which to me seemed 
angelic, in her whole mannner and appearance, that 
most powerfully impressed my mind ; and I could 
not refrain, when I arrived here, from mentioning it 



350 LETTERS. 

to Mr. Smith, who, I dare say, will recollect it. Like 
the angel she then appeared, she now really is, 
fitted by a life of piety and benevolence to join her 
kindred spirits. She has left us her example, and 
the memory of her many virtues, to comfort our af- 
flicted hearts. Beloved, regretted, and lamented ! 
She was like a parent to me, and my full heart has 
paid the tributary tears to her memory. 

Adieu. Believe me yours very affectionately, 

A. A. 



TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

London, 27 September, 1786. 

MY DEAR SON, 

Since I wrote you last, I have made two excursions, 
one to Holland, and one of a week to the Hyde, the 
seat of Mr. Brand-HoUis. Here I was both enter- 
tained and delighted. In the first place, I must 
describe Mr. Hollis to you. He is a neat, nice 
bachelor, about fifty years old ; a learned, sensi- 
ble antiquarian. The late Mr. Hollis whose name 
he bears, could not have chosen a better representa- 
tive to have bestowed his mantle upon, for with it 
has desceaded that same love of liberty, benevo- 
lence, and philanthropy, which distinguished his 
worthy benefactor. At the entrance of the hall 
you discover the prevailing taste. There are a 
number of ancient busts, amongst which is one of 
Marcus Aurelius, who is a great favorite of Mr. 



LETTERS. 351 

Hollis. He told us, that all the great painters who 
had drawn Jesus Christ, had taken the busts of Mar- 
cus Aurelius as a model. There is a fine white 
marble bust of the late Mr. Hollis in this collection. 
This hall is large and spacious, and has been added 
to the house by Mr. Brand-Hollis since the death of 
his father^ who left it to him. The chamber where 
we lodged was hung round with portraits of his 
family. It is at one end of the house, and from 
two windows in front, and one at the end, we had 
a beautiful view of lawns and glades, clumps of 
trees and stately groves, and a piece of water full of 
fish. The borders of the walks in the pleasure- 
grounds are full of rare shrubs and trees, to which 
America has contributed her full proportion. To 
give you some idea of the singularity in which this 
good man discovers his taste, near the walk from 
his door to the road, he has a large and beautiful 
fir, which he calls Dr. Jebb. Having paled this 
tree in with a neat ornament, he has consecrated it 
to the memory of that excellent man, with whom I 
had only the pleasure of a short acquaintance, be- 
fore he was called to the regions of immortality. 
He possessed an excellent understanding, an un- 
shaken integrity, and a universal benevolence, and 
was one of the few firm . and steady friends to 
America. Cut off in middle age, he left a compan- 
ion endowed with an understanding superior to most 

1 Mr. Brand assumed the name of Hollis, in consequence of 
the bequest of his fortune made to him by Thomas Hollis. 



352 LETTERS. 

of her sex ; always in delicate health, but now a 
prey to the most piercing grief, which will shortly 
close the scene with her. They had no children, 
and, being wholly a domestic woman, the pleasures 
of the world have no relish for her. Her friends 
have at length prevailed with her to go into the 
country for a few weeks. 

But to return to Mr. Hollis's curiosities. In his 
garden he has a tall cypress, which he calls Gener- 
al Washington, and another by its side, which he 
has named for Colonel Smith, as his aid-de-camp. 
This gentleman possesses a taste for all the fine arts. 
In architecture, Palladio is his oracle. Amongst his 
paintings are several of the first masters. Over his 
chimney, in his cabinet, are four small portraits, 
which he told me were his hero, his general, his 
philosopher, and his writer. Marcus Aurelius was 
his general ; his hero, pardon me, I have forgotten 
him. Plato was his writer, and Hutcheson his phi- 
losopher, who was also his preceptor. Mr. Hollis 
speaks also of him with great veneration ahd affec- 
tion. In the dining-room is a luxuriant picture for a 
bachelor, a Venus and Adonis, by Rembrandt, and 
two views, of a modern date, of the estate in Dorset- 
shire, which the late Mr. Hollis gave him. As there 
is only a farm-house upon it, he never resides there. 
There are three pastures belonging to it, which are 
called Hollis, Mead, and Brand. In Hollis pasture 
are the remains of its late owner, who left it as an 
order, which was faithfully executed, to be buried 



LETTERS. 353 

there, and ten feet deep, the ground to be ploughed 
up over his grave, that not a monument nor stone 
should tell where he lay. This was whimsical and 
singular, be sure, but singularity was his characteris- 
tic, as many of his works show. 

Between Mr. Hollis's drawing-room and his libra- 
ry, is a small cabinet which he calls the Boudoir, 
which is full of curiosities ; amongst them a dagger 
made of the sword which killed Sir Edmondbury 
Godfrey, and an inscription, " Memento Godfrey, Pro- 
tomartyr. pro Religione Protestantium." In every 
part of the house you see Mr. Hollis's owl, cap of 
liberty, and dagger. In this cabinet is a silver cup, 
with a cover in the shape of an owl, with two rubies 
for eyes. This piece of antiquity was dug up at 
Canterbury from ten feet depth, and is considered a 
monkish conceit. Amongst the curiosities in this 
room is a collection of duodecimo prints, to the 
number of forty-five, of all the orders of nuns, 
which Mr. Bridgen purchased some years ago in the 
Austrian Netherlands, and presented to Mr. Hollis. 
Mr. Bridgen has lately composed some verses which 
are placed by the side of them. The idea is, that, 
banished from Germany by the Emperor, they have 
taken an asylum at the Hyde in sight of the Druids, 
the Portico of Athens, and the venerable remains of 
Egyptian, Greek, and Roman antiquities. I would 
not omit the mention of a curious medallion, on which 
is wrought a feast of all the heathen gods and god- 
desses sitting round a table. Jupiter throws down 



354 LETTERS. 

upon the middle of it one of his thunderbolts, flam- 
ing at each end with hghtning ; he lights his own pipe 
at it, and all the rest follow his example ; Venus, Mi- 
nerva, and Diana are whiffing away. This is the first 
time I ever conceived tobacco an ingredient in the 
feast of the Celestials. It must have been the inven- 
tion of some Dutchman. 

As select and highly-honored friends, we were ad- 
mitted into the library and to a view of the Miltonian 
Cabinet. In this, he has the original edition of Mil- 
ton's works, and every other to the present day. 
His library, his pictures, busts, medals, coins, Greek, 
Roman, Carthaginian, and Egyptian, are really a se- 
lection, as well as a collection, of most rare and valu- 
able curiosities. In the early part of his life, he visit- 
ed Rome, Italy, and many other countries. His for- 
tune is easy, and, as he has lived a bachelor, his time 
is occupied wholly by the sciences. He has a maid- 
en sister of forty-five, I should judge, who lives with 
him when he is in the country. They each ot' them 
own a house in town, and live separate during the 
winter. Miss Brand is curious in China and in birds. 
She has a piece of all the different manufactures of 
Porcelain made in this kingdom ; either a cup or 
bowl, a mug or jar. She has also a variety of sing- 
ing-birds. But what I esteem her much more for is, 
that she has taken from the streets half a dozen poor 
children, clothed them, and put them to school. 
This is doing good not only to the present, but future 
generations. 'T is really curious to see how the 



LETTERS. 355 

taste of the master has pervaded all the family. 
John, the coachman, has a small garden spot, which 
he invited me to see. Here were a collection of 
curious flowers, and a little grotto filled with fossils 
and shells. The gardener, whose house stands within 
a few rods of the mansion-house, is bee mad. He 
has a great number of glass hives, in which you may 
see the bees at work ; and he showed me the queen's 
cell. He handles the bees as one would flies ; they 
never sting him. He insists that they know hino., 
and will, with great fluency, read you a lecture of an 
hour, upon their laws and government. He has an 
invention for excluding the drones, who are larger 
bees than the rest, and when once out of the hive, 
they cannot return. 

It would require a whole volume to enumerate to 
you all that was worthy attention, and, had you been 
one of the visiters, I dare say you would have col- 
lected a larger stock of improvement, and been 
much more minute than I have been in my account 
of curiosities ; but I could not remember amidst 
such a variety. I enclose you a drawing of the 
house, which Mr. HoUis gave me. 

My visit to Holland was agreeable, but to your 
aunt Cranch I must refer you for particulars. Mad- 
am Dumas and Miss were absent upon her estate 
until the evening before I came away. I called to pay 
them a visit, and had a very cordial reception. Mr. 
Dumas speaks of you with great affection, as well as 
Madame, and Miss looked kind. The Marquis de 



356 LETTERS. 

Verac inquired after you with great politeness; 
said you were interpreter for him and Mr. Dana 
when you were at Petersburgh, and that, if I was 
dressed in your clothes, he should have taken me for 
you. " Years excepted," he should have added ; 
but that was a mental reservation. He is ambassa- 
dor at the Hague. 

Remember me affectionately to your brothers, 
and to all other friends ; and believe me most ten* 
derly 

Your ever affectionate mother, 

A. A. 

October 14th. Enclosed, you will find a medal of 
his present Majesty. As you have no great affec- 
tion for him, you may exchange it for any property 
you like better. 



TO MRS. SHAW. 

London, 21 November, 1786. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

Mr. S called upon us a day or two ago, and 

delivered me your kind letter of July the 20th. It 
was of a later date than any I had received from 
you, though near four months old. It was a little 
unfortunate for the gentleman, that Mr. Adams en- 
tered immediately into an inquiry of him respecting 
the state and commerce of the Massachusetts, of 
which, be sure, the gentleman drew a most gloomy 
picture, and finished the whole by saying, that the 



LETTERS. 357 

people in the United States were as much oppressed 
by taxes as they were in Europe. This being so 
wholly groundless, it roused the quick feelings of 
Mr. Adams, who replied, a little warmly, " Give me 
leave to tell you, Sir, that people who hold this 
language, betray a total ignorance of the subject. 
Name the article in this country, even to the light 
of heaven, the air you breathe, and the water you 
drink, which is not taxed. Loaded down with ac- 
cumulated burdens is this free people^ yet the whole 
is not sufficient to pay even the interest of the na- 
tional debt, and the charges of government. Mr. 
Pitt's surplus is a vision, and new methods of taxa- 
tion must be devised. Pray, are our farmers per- 
ishing in the midst of plenty, as in Ireland ? Are 
our fishermen starving ? Cannot the laborer find 
a subsistence ? Or has the price of labor fallen 
to sixpence, and subsistence risen to a shilling? Or 
is it only trade that languishes ? Thank God, that 
necessity, then, will oblige those who have lived 
luxuriously at the expense of others, and upon prop- 
erty which was not their own, to do so no longer. 
There is not a merchant in England, France, or 
Holland, with a capital which could buy fifty of our 
most opulent merchants, that lives at half the ex- 
pense which I have been informed many of ours 
have run into during the war, and since." 

By this time I had got into that part of your letter, 
which informed me that Mr. S had been unfor- 
tunate in business. I knew Mr. Adams was a perfect 



LETTERS. 

Stranger to this, and could design nothing against 
the gentleman ; but still I felt pained for him, as I 
presumed he had never had such a lesson before. 
He drew in his horns, and was more upon his guard 
the remainder of the time. We asked him to dine 
with us the next day, but he was engaged. Mr. 
Adams will return his visit, and then we shall send 
him a card of invitation. In his manners and ad- 
dress he appears much of a gentleman. 

The accounts you gave me of the singing of your 
birds, and the prattle of your children, entertained 
me much. Do you know that European birds have 
not half the melody of ours } Nor is their fruit 
half so sweet, nor their flowers half so fragrant, nor 
their manners half so pure, nor their people half so 
virtuous ; but keep this to yourself, or I shall be 
thought more than half deficient in understanding 
and taste. I will not dispute what every person 
must assent to ; that the fine arts, manufactures, 
and agriculture have arrived at a greater degree of 
maturity and perfection. But what is their age ? 
What their individual riches, when compared with 
us ? Far removed from my mind may the na- 
tional prejudice be, of conceiving all that is good and 
excellent comprised within the narrow compass of 
the United States. The Universal Parent has dis- 
pensed his blessings throughout all creation, and, 
though to some he hath given a more goodly heri- 
tage than to others, we have reason to believe that 
a general order and harmony are maintained by 



LETTERS. 359 

apportioning to each his proper station. Though 
seas, mountains, and rivers are geographical bound- 
aries, they contract not the benevolence and good will 
of the liberal mind, which can extend itself beyond 
the limits of country and kindred, and claim fellow- 
ship with Christian, Jew, or Turk. What a lesson 
did the great Author of our religion give to mankind 
by the parable of the Jew and the Samaritan ; but 
how little has it been regarded ! To the glory of the 
present age, they are shaking off that narrow, con- 
tracted spirit of priestcraft and usurpation, which has 
for so many ages tyrannized over the minds of man- 
kind, and deluged the world in blood. They con- 
sider religion not as a state stalking-horse, to raise 
men to temporal power and dignity ; but as a wise 
and benevolent system, calculated to still the bois- 
terous passions, to restrain the malevolent ones, to 
curb the ambitious, and to harmonize mankind to 
the temper of its great Author, who came to make 
peace, and not to destroy. The late act of tolera- 
tion, passed by Virginia, is esteemed here as an ex- 
ample to the world. 

We are now really in the gloomy month of No- 
vember, such as I have heard it described, but did 
not last year experience. Now we have it, all 
smoke, fog, and darkness ; and the general mourn- 
ing for the Princess Amelia adds to the gloom of 
the scene. I was yesterday at the drawing-room, for 
the first time since her death ; and, though I cannot 
say all faces gathered blackness, all bodies appeared 



360 LETTERS. 

SO. As she had given her fortune to her German 
nephews, it would have been absurd to have shown* 
any appearance of grief Poor John Bull is vastly 
angry and mortified. Had it been given to the 
Prince of Wales, his liberal hand would soon have 
poured forth the golden shower ; and, as his aunt 
acquired it all in this nation, here it ought to have 
remained, says John ; but he cannot alter it, so he 
vents himself, as usual, in abuse and bellowing. 
Adieu. Your sister, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

London, 20 January, 1787. 



MY DEAR SISTER, 



I WILL now give you some account of my late tour 
to Bath, that seat of fashionable resort, where, like 
the rest of the world, I spent a fortnight in amuse- 
ment and dissipation, but returned, I assure you, 
with double pleasure to my own fireside, where 
only, thank Heaven, my substantial happiness sub- 
sists. Here I find that satisfaction, which neither 
satiates by enjoyment, nor palls upon reflection ; for, 
though I like sometimes to mix in the gay world, 
and view the manners as they rise, I have much 
reason to be grateful to my parents, that my early 
education gave me not an habitual taste for what is 
termed fashionable life. The Eastern monarch, 
after having partaken of every gratification and 



LETTERS. 361 

sensual pleasure, which power, wealth, and dignity 
could bestow, pronounced it all vanity and vexation 
of spirit; and I have too great a respect for his 
wisdom to doubt his authority. I, however, passed 
through the routine, and attended three balls, two 
concerts, one play, and two private parties, besides 
dining and breakfasting abroad. We made up a 
party of Americans ; Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Mr. and 
Mrs. Rucker, and Miss Ramsay, Mr. Shippen, Mr. 
Harrison, Mr. Murray, Mr. Paradise, Mr. Bridgen, 
and a Count Zenobia, a Venetian nobleman. These, 
with our domestics, made a considerable train, and 
when we went to the rooms, we at least had a party 
to speak to. As I had but one acquaintance at 
Bath, and did not seek for letters of introduction, 
I had no reason to expect half the civility I experi- 
enced. I was, however, very politely treated by Mr. 
Fairfax and his lady, who had been in America, 
and own an estate in Virginia, and by a sister of Mr. 
Hartley's, who, though herself a cripple, was every 
way attentive and polite to us. Mr. John Boylston, 
whom I dare say you recollect, was the acquaintance 
I mentioned. He visited us immediately upon our 
arrival, and during our stay made it his whole study 
to show us every civility in his power. We break- 
fasted with him, and he dined with us. He has 
very handsome apartments, though he lives at lodg- 
ings. We drank tea and spent an evening with 
him, in a style of great elegance ; for he is one of 
the nicest bachelors in the world, and bears his age 



362 LETTERS. 

wonderfully, retaining the vivacity and sprightliness 
of youth. He has a peculiarity in his manners, 
which is natural to him ; but is a man of great read- 
ing and knowledge. He is a firm friend and well- 
wisher to America, as he amply testified during the 
war by his kindness to the American prisoners. 

And now you will naturally expect that I should 
give you some account of Bath, the antiquity of it, 
and the fame of its waters, having been so greatly 
celebrated. The story, which is related of its first 
discovery, is not the least curious part of it. A 
certain King Bladud, said to be a descendant from 
Hercules, was banished his father's court, on ac- 
count of his having the leprosy. Thus disgraced, 
he wandered in disguise into this part of the coun- 
try, and let himself to a swine-herd, to whom he 
communicated the disease, as well as to the hogs. 
In driving his hogs one day at some distance from 
his home, they wandered away to one of these 
streams, of which they were so fond that he could 
not get them out, until he enticed them with acorns. 
After their wallowing in them for several successive 
days, he observed that their scales fell off, and that 
his herd were perfectly cured. Upon which he de- 
termined to iry the experiment upon himself; and, 
after a few bathings, he was made whole. And 
Bladud's figure, in stone, is placed in the bath 
known by the name of the King's Bath, with an in- 
scription relating his discovery of these baths, eight 
hundred and sixty-three years before Christ. 



LETTERS. 

Bath lies in a great valley, surrounded with hills. 

It is handsomely built, chiefly with free-stone, which 

is its own growth, and is dug from the sides of its 

hills. The streets are as narrow and inconvenient 

for carriages as those of Paris, so that chairs are 

chiefly used, particularly in the old town. Bath 

was formerly walled in, and was a very small 

place ; but of late years it is much extended, and 

the new buildings are erected upon hills. Since it 

has become a place of such fashionable resort, it 

has been embellished with a Circus and a Crescent. 

The Parades are magnificent piles of buildings, the 

square is a noble one, and the Circus is said to be a 

beautiful piece of architecture ; but what I think the 

beauty of Bath, is the Crescent. The front consists 

of a range of Ionic columns on a rustic basement ; 

the ground falls gradually before it down to the river 

Avon, about half a mile's distance, and the rising 

country on the other side of the river holds up to it a 

most delightful prospect. The Crescent takes its 

name from the form in which the houses stand ; all 

of which join. There is a parade and street before 

them, a hundred feet wide, and nothing in front to 

obstruct this beautiful prospect. In this situation 

are the new assembly-rooms, which are said to 

exceed any thing of the kind in the kingdom, both 

as to size and decoration ; but, large as they are, 

they were completely crowded the evenings that I 

attended. There is a constant emulation subsisting 

between the new and old rooms, similar to the North 



364 LETTERS. 

and South Ends of Boston. It was said whilst I was 
there, that there were fourteen thousand persons 
more than the inhabitants of Bath. By this you 
may judge what a place of resort it is, not only for 
the infirm, but for the gay, the indolent, the curious, 
the gambler, the fortune-hunter, and even for those 
who go as the thoughtless girl from the country told 
Beau Nash, (as he was styled,) that she came out 
of wantonness. It is one constant scene of dissipa- 
tion and gambling, from Monday morning till Satur- 
day night, and the ladies sit down to cards in the 
public rooms as they would at a private party ; and 
not to spend a fortnight or a month at Bath at this 
season of the year, is as unfashionable as it would 
be to reside in London during the summer season. 
Yet Bath is a place I should never visit a second 
time for pleasure. To derive a proper improvement 
from company, it ought to be select, and to consist 
of persons respectable both for their morals and 
their understanding ; but such is the prevailing taste, 
that, provided you can be in a crowd, with here and 
there a glittering star, it is considered of little im- 
portance what the character of the person is who 
wears it. Few consider that the foundation stone, 
and the pillar on which they erect the fabric of 
their felicity, must be in their own hearts, otherwise 
the winds of dissipation will shake it, and the floods 
of pleasure overwhelm it in ruins. What is the 
chief end of man } is a subject well worth the in- 
vestigation of every rational being. What, indeed, 



LETTERS. 365 

is life, or its enjoyments, without settled principle, 
laudable purposes, mental exertions, and internal 
comfort, that sunshine of the soul ; and how are 
these to be acquired in the hurry and tumult of the 
world ? My visit to Bath, and the scenes which I 
mixed in, instead of exciting a gayety of disposition, 
led me into a train of moral reflections, which I could 
not refrain from detailing to you in my account of it. 

Upon my return, I had a new scene of folly to go 
through, which was, preparing for the birth-day. 
But as the fashionable Magazine will detail this 
matter, I shall omit any account of birth-day dress- 
es and decorations, only that I most sincerely wish 
myself rid of it. It is a prodigious expense, from 
which I derive neither pleasure nor satisfaction. 

The riots and dissensions in our State have been 
matter of very serious concern to me. No one will 
suppose that our situation here is rendered more 
eligible in consequence of it ; but I hope it will lead 
the wise and sensible part of the community in our 
State, as well as in the whole Union, to reflect 
seriously upon their situation, and, having wise laws, 
to execute them with vigor, justice, and punctuality. 
I have been gratified with perusing many late pub- 
lications in our Boston papers ; particularly the 
speech of the Chief Justice, which does him great 
honor. Mr. Adams, you will see by the books 
which Captain Cushing has carried out, has been 
employed in strengthening and supporting our gov- 
ernments, and has spared no pains to collect exam- 



LETTERS. 

pies for them, and show them, in one short, compre- 
hensive statement, the dangerous consequences of 
unbalanced power. We have the means of being 
the first and the happiest people upon the globe. 

Captain Scott, I hear, is just arrived ; but it may 
be a week, perhaps ten days, before he will get 
up himself, so that, whatever letters he may have, 
I shall not be able to get them before Captain Cash- 
ing sails. This is rather unfortunate, as there may 
be something I might wish to reply to. As to In- 
dia handkerchiefs, I give two guineas a-piece here 
for them, so that they are lower with you, as well 
as all other India goods. I give more for an ounce 
of spice than I used to do for a quarter of a pound in 
America. Only think, too, of five shillings sterling 
for every pound of coffee we use ! O, pray, by the 
next opportunity, send me a peck of Tuscarora rice. 
Let it be sifted. I want it only to scour my hands 
with. " Tuscarora rice ? " say you, " why, I sup- 
pose she means Indian meal." Very true, my dear 
sister ; but I will tell you a good story about this 
said rice. An ancestor of a family, who now hold 
their heads very high, is said to have made a fortune 
by it. The old grand-dame went out to America, 
when its productions were not much known here, 
and returned in rather indigent circumstances. Af- 
ter some time, knowing the taste in all ages for 
cosmetics, she made out a pompous advertisement 
of a costly secret which she possessed for purifying 
and beautifying the complexion, — nothing less than 



LETTERS. 367 

the " Tuscarora rice " at a guinea an ounce. The 
project took like the " Olympian dew " at this day, 
and barrel after barrel was disposed of at the moder- 
ate price before mentioned, till one fatal day, a sail- 
or, whose wife had procured one quarter of an ounce, 
was caught in the very act of using it. The sailor 
very roughly threw away the darling powder, upon 
which his wife exclaimed that he had ruined her, as 
she could procure no more, there being an unusual 
scarcity at that time. The fellow examined the 
paper, and swore it was nothing but Indian meal, and 
that he would bring her two barrels for a guinea, the 
next voyage he went. Upon this, the imposture was 
discovered, and the good woman obliged to decamp. 
Now, though I do not esteem it so highly as the 
sailor's wife, I pronounce it the best antidote to sea- 
coal black, that can be found. One friend and 
another have supplied me ever since I have been 
here, but now I am quite destitute. It is an article 
in so small quantity, that it will not be an object for 
the custom-house, so that it may come safely. 

Remember me most affectionately to all my 
friends. I cannot write to half of them ; my nieces 
shall hear from me by Raimond ; in the mean time 
be assured, my dear sister, of the warmest affection 
of Your sister, 

A. A. 



368 LETTERS. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

London, 25 February, 178t. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

Captain Davis called yesterday to let me know 
that he should sail in the course of the week. Cap- 
tain Barnard will not be long after him, and I al- 
most wish I was going to embark with him. I think 
I should not feel more anxious if I was in the midst 
of all the disturbances, than I do at this distance, 
where imagination is left at full liberty. When law 
and justice are laid prostrate, who or what is secure ? 
I received your letters, which came by Captain Scott, 
just as I was going to step into the can'iage to go into 
the City upon some business. As I was alone, I 
took them with me to read ; and, when I came to that 
part of your letter wherein you say that you had 
hoped to have seen only peace in future, after sur- 
mounting the horrors of one war, the idea was too 
powerful to me, and the tears involuntarily flowed. 
I was obliged to quit the letter till I had finished my 
business ; the thoughts which naturally occurred to me 
were, — " For what have we been contending against 
the tyranny of Britain, if we are to become the sacri- 
fice of a lawless banditti ? Must our glory be thus 
shorn and our laurels thus blasted ? Is it a trifling 
matter to destroy a government ? Will my country- 
men justify the maxim of tyrants, that mankind are 
not made for freedom ? I will, however, still hope 



LETTERS. 36y 

that the majority of our fellow-citizens are too wise, 
virtuous, and enlightened, to permit these outrages to 
gain ground and triumph. Solon, the wise lawgiver 
of Athens, published a manifesto for rendering infa- 
mous all persons who, in civil seditions, should re- 
main spectators of their country's danger by a crimi- 
nal neutrality. The spirit shown by the gentleman 
volunteers, and the capture of Shattuck, does honor 
to our State. More energy in government would 
have prevented the evil from spreading so far as it 
has done. 

''■ Mercy but gives sedition time to rally. 
Every soft, pliant, talking, busy rogue, 
Gathering a flock of hot-brained fools together, 
Can preach up new rebellion, 
Spread false reports of the Senate, working up 
Their madness to a fury quick and desperate, 
Till they run headlong into civil discords, 
And do our business with their own destruction." 

This is a picture of the civil dissensions in Rome, 
and to our mortification we find, that human nature 
is the same in all ages. Neither the dread of ty- 
rants, the fall of empires, the havoc and desolation 
of the human species, nor the more gloomy picture 
of civil discord, are sufficient to deter mankind from 
pursuing the same steps which have led others to 
ruin ; selfishness and spite, avarice and ambition 
pride and a levelling principle, are qualities very un 
favorable to the existence of civil liberty. But, what 
ever is to be the fate of our country, we have deter 
mined to come home and share it with you. Con 
U 



370 LETTERS. 

gress have never given Mr. Adams a recall from 
Holland, and he is vested (with Mr. Jefferson) with 
powers to form treaties with several other countries. 
His commission to this Court will terminate this 
time twelve months, and he has written to Congress 
his fixed and full determination to resign his com- 
mission and return at that period, if not before. So 
that, my dear sister, I most joyfully accept your in- 
vitation, and will come home, God willing, ere 
another year expires. Disagreeable as the situation 
of my native State appears, I shall quit Europe with 
more pleasure than I came to it, uncontaminated, I 
hope, with its manners and vices. I have learned to 
know the world and its value ; I have seen high life ; 
I have witnessed the luxury and pomp of state, the 
power of riches and the influence of titles, and have 
beheld all ranks bow before them as the only shrine 
worthy of worship. Notwithstanding this, I feel that 
I can return to my little cottage, and be happier than 
here ; and, if we have not wealth, we have what is 
better, — integrity. 

27 February, 1787. 

I had written you thus far with an intention of 
sending by Davis, but received a card to-day from 
Captain Barnard, that he will sail at the same time, 
which is a fortnight sooner than I expected. I have 
concluded to send by him. I wrote you by Captain 
Cushing, on board of whom I got Mr. Elworthy to 
put a small present for you, but was much mortified 
a day or two after to find, by a Boston paper, that 



LETTERS. 371 

they were prohibited articles. I hope you will not 
meet with trouble on account of them. I cannot but 
approve the spirit which dictated the measure ; the 
causes which gave rise to it must be deplored, for it 
is evidently a work of necessity rather than choice. 
The luxury, which had made such rapid strides 
amongst our countrymen, was more universal than 
that which is founded upon real wealth, for they have 
rioted upon the property which belonged to others. It 
is a very just observation, that those who have raised 
on empire have always t)een grave and severe ; they 
who have ruined it have been uniformly distinguish- 
ed for their dissipation. We shall wait with impa- 
tience for the result of General Lincoln's expedition. 
Much depends upon his success. Government seem 
afraid to use the power they have, and recommend 
and entreat, where they ought to command ; which 
makes me apprehend that the evil lies deeper than 
the heads or hands of Shays or Shattuck. From 
letters received here both from Boston and New 
York, it is to be feared that visionary schemes and 
ambitious projects are taking 'possession of men of 
property and science ; but, before so important an 
edifice as an established government is altered or 
changed, its foundation should be examined by skil- 
ful artists, and the materials of which it is composed, 
duly investigated. 

The " Defence of the American Constitutions" is 
a work which may, perhaps, contribute to this end, 



372 LETTERS. 

and I most sincerely wish it may do the good in- 
tended. 

I lament with you the loss of a worthy man, for 
such indeed was the friend of my dear Eliza. Our 
own duration is but a span ! then shall we meet those 
dear friends and relatives who have gone before us, 
and be engaged together in more elevated views, and 
purer pleasures and enjoyments, than mortality is ca- 
pable of. Let this idea soothe the afflicted mind, and 
administer balm to the wounded heart. All things 
are under the government of a supreme, all-wise Di- 
rector ; to Him commit the hour, the day, the year. 
Affectionately your sister, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

London, 28 April, 1787. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

We have accounts, by way of New York, to the 
8th of March, which inform us that General Lincoln 
had met with more resistance from the insurgents 
than we had reason to expect from former accounts ; 
that an engagement had taken place, in which sev- 
eral persons on both sides fell, but we do not learn 
who ; that Shays had got off into Vermont, where it 
was probable he would meet with protection. I hope 
these accounts are not well founded. Let not the 
patriots of our country be discouraged or dishearten- 
ed ; although their affairs are much embarrassed. 



LETTERS. 373 

the country is fruitful in resources. Patience, per- 
severance, industry, and frugality will accomplish 
great things. Our countrymen create most of the 
misfortunes they feel, for want of a disinterested 
spirit, a confidence in each other, and a union of the 
whole. It is a great misfortune, when one State 
thwarts the measures of eleven or twelve, and thus 
injures the credit and reputation of the whole. The 
situation of our country greatly damps the pleasure 
I should feel in anticipating my return to it. You 
may well suppose that falsehoods in abundance are 
circulated here ; an attempt to publish the truth or 
contradict them, would have no other effect than 
raising a nest of hornets and wasps, and would em- 
ploy the whole time of one person. An extract of 
a letter published, from Dr. Rush to Dr. Price, giving 
an account of the establishment of two or three new 
societies, drew upon the latter so much abuse and 
scurrility as would disgrace any people. The writer, 
like an envenomed toad, spit forth his poison. There 
are a set of refugees residing here, the enormity of 
whose offences forbids their ever returning again to 
America. Like Satan, they look to the heights, from 
whence they have fallen, with a malice and envy 
similar to that which the arch fiend felt, when he 
beheld the glory of the new world ; and, like him, 
they wish to destroy the happiness of its inhabitants. 
Such are Galloway, and Smith, who is gone prime 
minister to Lord Dorchester. A few days before he 
left this country, he gave it as his solid opinion, that 



374 LETTERS. 

he should Hve to see America sue to Britain for pro- 
tection, and to be received again by it ; he might 
have added, it should not be his fault if they did 
not. I hope a watchful eye will be kept over Lord 
Dorchester and all his movements. This govern- 
ment are as much disposed to sow seeds of dis- 
sension among us as ever, and build wholly upon 
our splitting to pieces. 

Adieu. Yours, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 

London, 16 July, 1787. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

If, as the poet says, " expectation makes the blessing 
sweet," your last letter w^as peculiarly so. As you 
conjectured, I was not a little anxious that neither 
Captain Barnard nor Davis brought me a line. I was 
apprehensive that something was the matter, some 
imminent danger threatening some friend, of which 
my friends chose not to inform me until their fate 
was decided. I sent on board the ship ; the solitary 
box of meal was searched throughout. What, not 
one line from my dear sister Cranch, she who has 
never before failed me ? Can it be possible ? Uncle 
Smith did not, as usual, say in his letter, that all 
friends were well. Dr. Tufts, for the first time, 
omitted mentioning my children. That might be 
because he thought that they had written. Thus was 



LETTERS. 375 

my mind agitated until Captain Scott's arrival, who 
brought me your kind letter of May the 20th, but 
none from either of my nieces or children. Those 
dear lads do not write so often as I wish them to do, 
because they have nothing more to say than that they 
are well ; not considering how important that intelli- 
gence is to an affectionate parent. Mr. J. Cranch 
wrote to me soon after Barnard's arrival, and sent me 
an extract of a letter from Miss B. Palmer, with a 
particular account of the performances in April, at 
Cambridge, in which your son and mine bore a part. 
These young gentlemen are much indebted to her 
for her partiality and the very flattering manner in 
which she describes them. I hope they will con- 
tinue to deserve the esteem of all good judges, and 
do honor to themselves and their country. The ac- 
count you give me of the health of J. Q. A. is no 
more than I expected to hear. I warned him fre- 
quently before he left me, and have been writing him 
ever since. I hope he will take warning before it is 
too late. It gives me great satisfaction to learn that 
he has passed through the University with so much 
reputation, and that his fellow students are attached 
to him. I have never once regretted the resolution 
he took of quitting Europe, and placing himself upon 
the theatre of his own country ; where, if his life is 
spared, I presume he will neither be an idle nor use- 
less spectator. Heaven grant, that he may not have 
more distressing scenes before him, and a gloomier 
stage to tread, than those on which his father has 



376 LETTERS. 

acted for twelve years past. But the curtain rises 
before him, and instead of Peace waving her ohve- 
branch, or Liberty seated in a triumphal car, or Com- 
merce, Agriculture, and Plenty, pouring forth their 
stores. Sedition hisses, Treason roars. Rebellion 
gnashes her teeth, Mercy suspends the justly merited 
blow, but Justice strikes the guilty victim. Here may 
the scene close, and brighter prospects open before us 
in future. I hope the political machine will move with 
more safety and security this year than the last, and 
that the new head may be endowed with wisdom suf- 
ficient to direct it. There are some good spokes in 
the wheels, though the master workmen have been 
unskilful in discarding some of the best, and choosing 
others not sufficiently seasoned ; but the crooked and 
cross-grained will soon break to pieces ; though this 
may do much mischief in the midst of a journey, 
and shatter the vehicle, yet another year may re- 
pair the damages. But to quit allegory'-, or you will 
think I have been reading Johnny Bunyan, the con- 
duct of a certain gentleman is rather curious. I 
really think him an honest man, but ambition is a 
very wild passion, and there are some characters, 
that never can be pleased unless they have the en- 
tire direction of all public affairs. And, when they 
are unemployed, they are continually blaming those 
in office, and accusing them of ignorance or inca- 
pacity, and spreading alarms that the country is 
ruined and undone; but put them into office, and 
it is more than probable they will pursue the same 



LETTERS. 377 

conduct which they had before condemned. But 
no man is fit to be trusted, who is not diffident of 
himself. Such is the frailty of human nature, and 
so great a flatterer is self-love, that it presents false 
appearances, and deceives its votaries. 

I have had with me for a fortnight a little daugh- 
ter of Mr. JeflJerson's, who arrived here with a young 
negro girl, her servant, from Virginia. Mr. Jefl^er- 
son wrote me some months ago that he expected 
them, and desired me to receive them. I did so, 
and was amply repaid for my trouble. A fairer 
child of her age I never saw. So mature an under- 
standing, so womanly a behaviour, and so much sen- 
sibility, united, are rarely to be met with. I grew so 
fond of her, and she was so attached to me, that, 
when Mr. Jefferson sent for her, they were obliged 
to force the little creature away. She is but eight 
years old. She would sit sometimes, and describe 
to me the parting with her aunt who brought her 
up, the obligations she was under to her, and the 
love she had for her little cousins, till the tears 
would stream down her cheeks ; and how I had 
been her friend, and she loved me. Her papa 
would break her heart by making her go again. 
She clung round me so that I could not help shed- 
ding a tear at parting with her. She was the favor- 
ite of every one in the house. I regret that such 
fine spirits must be spent in the walls of a convent. 
She is a beautiful girl, too. 

This, I presume, is Commencement day. I dare 



378 LETTERS. 

say the young folks feel anxious. I don't know 
whether I should venture to be a hearer, if I was in 
America. I should have as many perturbations as 
the speakers. I hope they will acquit themselves 
with honor. Mr. Adams desires me to tell cousin 
Cranch that any of his books are at his service. 
I believe we must send some of these young men to 
settle in Vermont. Can they get their bread in Mas- 
sachusetts ? But " the world is all before them " ; 
may " Providence be their guide." 

Your sister, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. CRANCH. 
Grosvenor Square, 15 September, 1787. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

When I wrote you last, I was just going to set out 
on a journey to the West of England. I promised 
you to visit Mr. Cranch's friends and relatives. 
This we did, as I shall relate to you. We were 
absent a month, and made a tour of almost six hun- 
dred miles. The first place we made any stay at 
was Winchester. There was formerly an Earl of 
Winchester, by the name of Saer de Quincy. He 
was created Earl of Winchester by King John, in 
1224, and signed Magna Charta, which I have seen ; 
the original being now in the British Museum, with 
his handwriting to it. 

It is said, that, in the year 1321, the title became 



LETTERS. 379 

extinct through failure of male heirs, but I rather 
think through the poverty of some branch, unable 
to contend for it. The family originally came from 
Normandy, in the time of William the Conqueror. 
They bear the same arms with those of our ances- 
tors, except that ours substituted an animal for the 
crest, in lieu of an earPs coronet. I have a perfect 
remembrance of a parchment in our grandmother's 
possession, which, when quite a child, I used to 
amuse myself with. This was a genealogical table, 
which gave the descent of the family from the time 
of William the Conqueror. This parchment Mr. 
Edmund Quincy borrowed, on some occasion, and 
I have often heard our grandmother say, with some 
anger, that she could never recover it. As the old 
gentleman is still living, I wish Mr. Cranch would 
question him about it, and know what hands it went 
into, and whether there is any probability of its ever 
being recovered ; and be so good as to ask uncle 
Quincy how our grandfather came by it, and from 
whence our great-grandfather came, where he first 
settled, and take down in writing all you can learn 
from him and Mr. Edmund Quincy respecting the 
family. You will smile at my zeal, perhaps, on this 
occasion ; but can it be wondered at that I should 
wish to trace an ancestor amongst the signers of 
Magna Charta ? Amongst those who voted against 
receiving an explanatory charter in the Massachu- 
setts, stands the name of our venerable grandfather, 
accompanied with only one other ; this the journals 



380 LETTERS. 

of the House will show, to his immortal honor. I 
do not expect either titles or estate from the re- 
covery of the genealogical table, were there any 
probability of obtaining it. Yet, if I was in posses- 
sion of it, money should not purchase it from me. 

But to return to Winchester. It is a very ancient 
place, and was formerly the residence of the Saxon 
and Norman kings. There still remains a very 
famous cathedral church, in the true Gothic archi- 
tecture, being partly built in the year 1079. I at- 
tended divine service there, but was much more 
entertained with the venerable and majestic appear- 
ance of the ancient pile, than with the modern, 
flimsy discourse of the preacher. A meaner per- 
formance I do not recollect to have heard ; but, in a 
church which would hold several thousands, it might 
truly be said, two or three were met together, and 
those appeared to be the lower order of the people. 

From Winchester we proceeded to Southampton, 
which is a very pretty seaport town, and much fre- 
quented during the summer months as a bathing- 
place ; and here, for the first time in my life, I 
tried the experiment. It would be delightful in 
our warm weather, as well as very salubrious, if 
such conveniences were erected in Boston, Brain- 
tree, and Weymouth, which they might be, with little 
expense. The places are under cover. You have 
a woman for a guide, a small dressing-room to your- 
self, an oil-cloth cap, a flannel gown, and socks for 
the feet. We tarried only two days at Southamp- 



LETTERS. 381 

ton, and went ten miles out of our way in order to 
visit Weymouth, merely for its name. This, Hke 
my native town, is a hilly country, a small seaport, 
with very little business, and wholly supported by 
the resort of company during the summer months. 
For those persons, who have not country-houses of 
their own, resort to the watering-places, as they are 
called, during the summer months, it being too vul- 
gar and unfashionable to remain in London. But 
where the object of one is health, that of fifty is 
pleasure, however far they fall short of the object. 
This whole town is the property of a widow lady. 
Houses are built by the tenants, and taken at life- 
rents, which, upon the decease of the lessees, revert 
back again to the owner of the soil. Thus is the 
landed property of this country vested in lordships 
and in the hands of the rich altogether. The peas- 
antry are but slaves to the lord, notwithstanding 
the mighty boast they make of liberty. Sixpence and 
sevenpence per day is the usual wages given to 
laborers, who are to feed themselves out of the pit- 
tance. In travelling through a country, fertile as 
the garden of Eden, loaded with a golden harvest, 
plenty smiling on every side, one would imagine 
that the voice of Poverty was rarely heard, and that 
she was seldom seen, but in the abodes of indolence 
or vice. But it is far otherwise. The money earned 
by the sweat of the brow must go to feed the pampered 
lord and fatten the greedy bishop, whilst the misera- 
ble, shattered, thatched-roof cottage crumbles to the 



382 LETTERS. 

dust for want of repair. To hundreds and hundreds 
of these abodes have I been a witness in my late 
journey. The cheering rays of the sun are totally 
excluded, unless they find admittance through the 
decayed roof, equally exposed to cold and the in- 
clement season. A few rags for a bed and a joint- 
stool comprise the chief of their furniture, whilst 
their own appearance is more wretched than one 
can well conceive. During the season of hay and 
harvest, men, women, and children are to be seen 
laboring in the fields ; but, as this is a very small 
part of the year, the little they then acquire is soon 
expended ; and how they keep soul and body to- 
gether the remainder of the year is very hard to tell. 
It must be owing to this very unequal distribution of 
property, that the poor-rate is become such an in- 
tolerable burden. The inhabitants are very thinly 
scattered through the country, though large towns 
are well peopled. To reside in and near London, and 
to judge of the country from what one sees here, 
would be forming a very erroneous opinion. How 
little cause of complaint have the inhabitants of the 
United States, when they compare their situation, 
not with despotic monarchies, but with this land of 
freedom ! The ease with which honest industry 
may acquire property in America, the equal distri- 
bution of justice to the poor as well as the rich, 
and the personal liberty they enjoy, all, all call upon 
them to support their government and laws, to re- 
spect their rulers, and gratefully acknowledge their 



LETTERS. 383 

superior blessings, lest Heaven in wrath should send 

them a . 

From Weymouth, our next excursion was to Ax- 
minster, the first town in the county of Devonshire. 
It is a small place, but has two manufactures of 
note ; one of carpets, and one of tapes ; both of 
which we visited. The manufactory of the carpets 
is wholly performed by women and children. You 
would have been surprised to see in how ordinary a 
building this rich manufactory was carried on. A 
few glass windows in some of our barns would be 
equal to it. They have but two prices for their 
carpets woven here ; the one is eighteen shillings, 
and the other twenty-four, a square yard. They 
are woven of any dimensions you please, and with- 
out a seam. The colors are most beautiful, and 
the carpets very durable. Here we found Mr. J. 
Cranch. He dined with us, and we drank tea with 
him. This is a curious genius. He is a middle- 
sized man, of a delicate countenance, but quite 
awkward in his manners. He seldom looks one in 
the face, and seems as if he had been cramped and 
cowed in his youth. In company, one is pained for 
him ; yet he is a man of reading, and an accurate 
taste in the fine arts. Poetry, painting, music, 
sculpture, architecture, all of them have engaged 
his attention. His profession does not seem to be 
the object of his affections, and he has given up the 
practice, with an intention of pursuing some other 
employment. He appears to be a man whose soul 



384 LETTERS. 

wants a wider expansion than his situation and cir- 
cumstances allow. Dejected spirits he is very liable 
to. I do not think him a happy man. His senti- 
ments are by no means narrow or contracted ; yet 
he is one by himself. He accompanied us in our 
journey to Exeter, Plymouth, and Kingsbridge. At 
Exeter, we tarried from Saturday till Monday after- 
noon. Mr. Bowring came to visit us. You know 
him by character. He appears a friendly, honest, 
worthy man, active in business, a warm and zealous 
friend to America, ready to serve his friends, and 
never happier than when they will give him an op- 
portunity of doing it. His wife and daughter were 
on a visit to their friends at Kingsbridge, so that we 
did not see them. He requested, however, that we 
would drink tea with him after meeting ; and, as 
our intention was to see Mr. Cranch's brother An- 
drew, he engaged to get him to his house. The 
old gentleman came with some difficulty, for he is 
very lame and infirm. He seemed glad to see us, 
and asked many questions respecting his brother 
and sister in America. I think he must have had a 
paralytic stroke, as his speech is thick. He has not 
been able to do any business for a number of years, 
and I believe is chiefly supported by his son, who is 
in the clothier's business with Mr. Bowring. Mrs. 
Cranch, though nearly as old as her husband, is a 
little smart, sprightly, active woman, and is wilted 
just enough to last to perpetuity. She told me that 
her husband took it very hard, that his brother had 



LETTERS. 385 

not written to him for a long time. I promised her 
that he should hear from him before long ; and I 
know he will not let me be surety for him without 
fulfilling my engagement. Mr. Cranch's daughter 
married Mr. Bowring's brother; they have three 
sons. She is a sprightly woman, like her mother. 
And Mr. Bowring's daughter married a son of Mr. 
Nathaniel Cranch, so that the family is doubly 
linked together, and what is more, they all seem 
united by the strongest ties of family harmony and 
love. From Exeter, we went to Plymouth ; there we 
tarried several days, and visited the fortifications and 
Plymouth dock, and crossed over the water to Mount 
Edgcombe, a seat belonging to Lord Edgcombe. The 
natural advantages of this place are superior to any 
I have before seen, commanding a wide and exten- 
sive view of the ocean, the whole town of Plymouth, 
and the adjacent country, with the mountains of 
Cornwall. I have not much to say with respect to 
the improvements of art. There is a large park, 
well stocked with deer, and some shady walks ; but 
there are no grottos, statuary, sculpture, or temples. 
At Plymouth, we were visited by a Mr. and Mrs. 
Sawry, with whom we drank tea one afternoon. Mr. 
Sawry is well known to many Americans, who were 
prisoners in Plymouth jail during the late war. The 
money which was raised for their relief passed 
through his hands, and he was very kind to them, 
assisting many in their escape. From Plymouth, 
we made an enterprise one day to Horsham, and, as 
25 



386 



LETTERS. 



we attempted it in a coach and four, we made a 
curious piece of work, taking by mistake a wrong 
road, — but this part of my story I must reserve for 
my dear EHza. 

Our next movement was to Kingsbridge ; but, be- 
fore I relate this, I ought to inform you that we 
made a stop at a place called Ivy Bridge, where we 
dined ; and Mr. Adams accompanied Mr. Cranch to 
Brook, about three miles distant, to visit his uncle, 
Mr. William Cranch, who has been for several years 
quite lost to himself and friends. There is some 
little property in the hands of the family, who take 
charge of him, sufficient to support a person who 
has no more wants than he has. He appeared clean 
and comfortable, but took no notice, either of the 
conversation or persons. The only thing which in 
the least roused him was the mention of his wife. 
He appeared to be restless when that subject was 
touched. The character of this man, as given by 
all his friends and acquaintance, leads one to regret, 
in a particular manner, the loss of his intellect. 
Possessed of a genius superior to his station, a thirst 
for knowledge which his circumstances in life per- 
mitted him not to pursue, most amiable and engag- 
ing in his manners, formed to have adorned a supe- 
rior rank in life, fondly attached to an amiable wife, 
whom he very soon lost, he fell a sacrifice to a too 
great sensibility ; unable to support the shock, he 
grew melancholy, and was totally lost. 
Bui to return to Kingsbridge, the chief resort of 



LETTERS. 387 

the Cranch family. We arrived at the inn about six 
o'clock on Saturday evening. About eight, we were 
saluted with a ringing of bells, a circumstance we 
little expected. Very soon we were visited by the 
various branches of the Cranch family, both male 
and female, amounting to fifteen persons ; but, as 
they made a strange jumble in my head, I persuaded 
my fellow traveller to make me out a genealogical 
table, which I send you. Mr. and Mrs. Burnell, and 
^{r. and Mrs. Trathan, both offered us beds and ac- 
commodations at their houses ; but we were too nu- 
merous to accept their kind invitations, though we 
engaged ourselves to dine with Mr. Burnell, and to 
drink tea with Mr. Trathan, the next day. Mrs. 
Burnell has a strong resemblance to Mrs. Palmer. 
She is a genteel woman, and easy and polite. We 
dined at a very pretty dinner, and after meeting 
drank tea at the other house, Mr. Trathan's. Their 
houses are very small, but every thing neat and 
comfortable. Mr. Burnell is a shoemaker, with five 
thousand pounds ; and Mr. Trathan a grocer, in 
good circumstances. The rest of the families joined 
us at the two houses. They are all serious, indus- 
trious, good people, amongst whom the greatest fam- 
ily harmony appears to subsist. The people of this 
county appear more like our New England people 
than any I have met with in this country before ; 
but the distinction between tradesmen and gentry, as 
they are termed, is widely different from that dis- 
tinction in our country. With us, in point of edu- 



388 LETTERS. 

cation and manners, the learned professions, and 
many merchants, farmers, and tradesmen, are upon 
an equality with the gentry of this country. It 
would be degrading to compare them with many of 
the nobility here. As to the ladies of this country, 
their manners appear to be totally depraved. It is 
in the middle ranks of society, that virtue and moral- 
ity are yet to be found. Nothing does more inju- 
ry to the female character than frequenting public 
places ; and the rage which prevails now for the wa- 
tering-places, and the increased number of them, are 
become a national evil, as they promote and encour- 
age dissipation, mix all characters promiscuously, and 
are the resort of the most unprincipled female char- 
acters, who are not ashamed to show their faces 
wherever men dare to go. Modesty and diffidence 
are called ill-breeding and ignorance of the world ; 
an impudent stare is substituted in lieu of that mod- 
est deportment, and that retiring grace, which awes 
whilst it enchants. I have never seen a female 
model here of such unaffected, modest, and sweetly 
amiable manners as Mrs. Guild, Mrs. Russell, and 
many other American females exhibit. 

Having filled eight pages, I think it is near time 
to hasten to a close. Gushing and Folger are both 
arrived ; by each I have received letters from you. 
A sheet of paper must contain a reply to them. 
This little space shall assure you of what is not 
confined to time or place, — the ardent affection of 
your sister, A. A. 



LETTERS. 



TO BUSS LUCY CRANCH. 

London, 3 October, 1787. 



I THANK you, my dear Lucy, for writing by Mr. 
Jenks. 

You learnt by Captain Barnard, that I was going 
a journey. I have given your niamma and sister 
some account of my late excursion to Devonshire. 
We returned home through Bristol, and took Oxford 
in our way, from whence we went to Woodstock, and 
visited Blenheim, the seat of the Duke of Marlbor- 
ough, which was built at the public expense, and 
granted by the Crown to the Duke, for the services 
he had rendered his country. This castle is upon 
the grandest scale of any thing I have ever yet seen. 
We enter the park through a spacious and elegant 
portal, of the Corinthian order, from whence a noble 
prospect is opened to the palace, the bridge, the 
lake, with its valley, and other beautiful scenes. 
The front of this noble edifice, which is of stone, is 
three hundred and forty-eight feet from wing to 
wing. On the pediment of the south front, towards 
the garden, is a noble bust of Louis the Fourteenth, 
taken by the Duke from the gates of Tournai. This, 
the gardener told us, he never failed pointing out to 
the French gentlemen who visited the place, and 
that they shrugged their shoulders and mon-Dieu'd. 
But, before I describe to you the gardens, I will at- 



390 LETTERS. 

tempt to give you a short, though imperfect account 
of the palace. It would require a week to view it, 
and a volume to describe it particularly. I will, 
therefore, only collect from my little journal the 
most remarkable objects. 

We entered the palace through a magnificent 
hall, supported by Corinthian pillars. Over the door, 
going into the saloon, is a bust of John, Duke of 
Marlborough, and two statues in bronze, namely, the 
Venus de' Medici and a Faun. The ceiling is 
painted allegorical iy, representing Victory crowning 
John, Duke of Marlborough, and pointing to a plan 
of the battle of Blenheim. From the saloon, we 
pass through a suite of rooms, all of them containing 
a most costly and beautiful collection of paintings, 
many of them originals of the first masters. In the 
dining-room is a family-piece, the present Duke and 
Duchess, and six of their children, by Sir Joshua 
Keynolds. The furniture of the rooms is different- 
colored damask. The family being at the house, 
we saw only the lower apartments. The winter 
drawing-room is of tapestiy, upon which is repre- 
sented the Cardinal Virtues ; chairs and curtains, 
white damask. From a series of smaller, though 
magnificent apartments, we were suddenly struck at 
entering the library, which is one hundred and 
eighty-three feet long, and the most costly, as well 
as beautiful place I ever saw. The Doric pilasters 
are of marble, with complete columns of the same, 
which support a rich entablature ; the window frames. 



LETTERS. 391 

the surrounding basement of black marble, and the 
stuccoed compartments of the vaulted ceiling, are 
in the highest taste, both of design and finishing. 
There is a person, who always attends at these 
seats, who has by heart the whole history of all that 
is to be seen ; and he makes a very handsome sum of 
money by it. This library was originally intended 
as a gallery for paintings ; but the late Duke of 
Marlborough chose to have it furnished with the 
noble collection of books made by Lord Sunderland, 
his Grace's father, which amounts to twenty-four 
thousand volumes, and is said to be the best private 
collection in England. They are kept under gilt 
wire lattices, and make a superb appearance. At 
one end of the room, is a highly finished marble 
statue of Queen Anne, with this inscription ; " To 
the memory of Queen Anne, under whose auspi- 
ces John, Duke of Marlborough, conquered, and to 
whose munificence, he and his posterity with grati- 
tude owe the possession of Blenheim, in A. D. 
1746." There are two marble busts over the chim- 
ney, one of Charles, Earl of Sunderland, who col- 
lected the books, and another of Charles Spencer, 
Duke of Marlborough ; and, at the farther end of the 
room, is a fine Greek bust of Alexander the Great, 
and fourteen full-length family portraits. From two 
bow windows in this noble gallery, the eye is de- 
lighted with a view of the declivity, descending to 
the water, and the gradual ascent of the venerable 
grove, which covers the opposite hill. In short, 



392 LETTERS. 

whether we look within or without, all is on the scale 
of the sublime and the beautiful. I must not overlook 
the chapel, which makes one of the wings of the house, 
and in which there is a proud monument, of white 
marble, to the memory of the renowned Duke and 
Duchess of Marlborough. The group of marble fig- 
ures, large as life, upon this monument, are the Duke 
and Duchess, with two of their sons, who died young. 
They are supported by two figures. Fame and His- 
tory. The altar-piece is the best painting I ever saw ; 
our Saviour taken down from the cross. 

From the house, we visited the gardens ; and here 
I am lost, not in confusion, but amidst scenes of 
grandeur, magnificence, and beauty. They are 
spacious, and include a great variety of ground. 
The plain, or as artists term it, the lawn, before the 
palace, is kept in the most perfect order ; not a sin- 
gle spire of grass rises above another. It is mowed 
and swept every other day, and is as smooth as the 
surface of a looking-glass. The gardener, who has 
lived twenty-five years upon the place, told us that 
he employed about sixty-three hands during the 
summer, in mowing, sweeping, pruning, lopping, 
and in ornamenting the grounds. From this lawn 
is a gradual descent to the water, and you pass 
through spacious gravel walks, not in straight lines, 
as Pope expresses it, 

" where each alley has a brother, 
And half the platform just reflects the other 3" 

but pleasing intricacies intervene. Through the wind- 



LETTERS. 

ing paths, and every step, open new objects of beau- 
ty, which diversified nature affords of hill, valley, 
water, and woods ; the gardens finally are lost 
in the park, amidst a profusion of venerable oaks, 
£ome of which are said to have stood nine hundred 
years. The gardens are four miles round, v/hich 
I walked ; the park is eleven. There is a magnifi- 
cent bridge consisting of three arches ; the water 
which it covers, is formed into a spacious lake, which 
flows the whole extent of a capacious valley. This 
was built at the expense of Sarah, Duchess of Marl- 
borough, as well as a column which I shall mention 
in turn. The gardener, who was very loquacious 
and swelled with importance, told us, that since his 
residence there, the present Duke had greatly en- 
larged and improved the grounds; that he had beau- 
tified them by the addition of some well-placed or- 
naments, particularly the temple of Diana, and a 
noble cascade, round which are four river gods, rep- 
resented as the guardian genii of the water. 

This celebrated park was first enclosed in the 
reign of Henry the First. His successor, Henry the 
Second, resided at this seat, and erected in this park 
a palace, and encompassed it with a labyrinth, which 
was fair Rosamond's bower, celebrated by Addison. 
There are now no remains of it, except a spring at 
the foot of the hill, which still bears the name of 
Rosamond's Well. This palace is celebrated as the 
birth-place of Edmund, second son of Edward the 
First, and of Edward the Black Prince. Elizabeth was 



394 LETTERS. 

kept a prisoner there under the persecutions of Queen 
Mary ; and it continued to be the residence of kings 
until the reign of Charles the First, but it was demol- 
ished in succeeding times of confusion. There are 
now two sycamores planted as a memorial upon the* 
spot where the old palace stood. The column will 
close my narrative. This is in front of the palace of 
Blenheim at about half a mile distance, and is one 
hundred and thirty feet high ; on the top of which is 
John, Duke of Marlborough, and on which is the fol- 
lowing inscription, supposed to be written by the late 
Lord Bolingbroke. 

''The Castle of Blenheim was founded by Queen Anne, 

In the fourth year of her reign. 

In the year of the Christian era, 1705. 

A monument designed to perpetuate the memory of the 

Signal Victory 

Obtained over the French and Bivarians 

On the banks of the Danube 

By John, Duke of Marlborough : 

The Hero not only of this nation, but of this age ; 

Whose glory was equal in the council and in the field. 

Who, by wisdom, justice, candor, and address. 

Reconciled various, and even opposite interests 5 

Acquired an influence 

Which no rank, no authority can give, 

Nor any force but that of superior virtue ; 

Became the fixed, important centre 

Which united in one common cause 

The principal States of Europe. 

Who, by military knowledge and irresistible valor, 

In a long series of uninterrupted triumphs, 

Broke the power of France 

When raised the highest, and when exerted the most} 

Rescued the empire from desolation, 

Asserted and confirmed the liberties of Europe." 



f 



LETTERS. 395 

Thus is the gratitude of the nation expressed, and 
thus do the heirs of Marlborough triumph. The 
present Duke is a man of Hterary pursuits, domestic, 
and a great astronomer. He has a fine observatory 
and apparatus. From this observatory he makes 
signals to Herschel at Windsor, and they study the 
stars together. 

I have made a very long letter of it. I hope it 
may prove an amusement to you. 

Remember me kindly to all inquiring friends, and 
believe me, my dear niece. 

Your ever affectionate 

A. A. 



TO JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. 

London, 12 October, 1787. 

MY DEAR SON, 

I CANNOT begin my letter by thanking you for yours. 
You write so seldom that you do not give me the 
opportunity. Yet I think you would feel disappoint- 
ed if you did not get a few lines from me. I con- 
gratulate you upon your success at Commencement, 
and, as you have acquired a reputation upon entering 
the stage of the world, you will be no less solicit- 
ous to preserve and increase it through the whole 
drama. It is said of Hannibal, that he wanted 
nothing to the completion of his martial virtues, but 
that, when he had gained a victory, he should know 
how to use it. It is natural to the human heart, to 



396 LETTERS. 

swell with presumption, when conscious of superior 
power ; yet all human excellence is comparative, 
and he, who thinks he knows much to-day, will find 
much more still unattained, provided he is still eager 
in pursuit of knowledge. 

Your friends are not anxious that you will be in 
any danger through want of sufficient application, 
but that a too ardent pursuit of your studies will im- 
pair your health, and injure those bodily powers and 
faculties upon which the vigor of the mind depends. 
Moderation in all things is conducive to human hap- 
piness, though this is a maxim little heeded by youth, 
whether their pursuits are of a sensual or a more re- 
fined and elevated kind. 

It is an old adage, that a man at thirty must be 
either a fool or a physician. Though you have not 
arrived at that age, you would do well to trust to the 
advice and experience of those who have. Our 
bodies are framed of such materials as to require 
constant exercise to keep them in repair, to brace 
the nerves, and give vigor to the animal functions. 
Thus do I give you " line upon hne, and precept 
upon precept." 

By the time this reaches you, you will have heard 
of the humiliating condition of Holland. History 
does not furnish a more striking instance of abject 
submission and depression, totally and almost unre- 
sistingly conquered by a few Prussian troops ; a na- 
tion, that formerly withstood the whole power and 
force of Spain, and gave such proofs of bravery and 



LETTERS. 397 

prowess as astonished surrounding nations, now hum- 
bled to the dust by an imperious and haughty wo- 
man, backed by the troops of Prussia, for a mere 
trifling affront ; or rather, this has been the specious 
pretence for all the horrors which are brought upon 
the patriots and friends of liberty in Holland. May 
her name descend with eternal obloquy to future 
ages. 

Poor Dumas and family have lived in a state worse 
than death ; since to exist in constant dread of being 
dragged a victim to an enraged mob, who were con- 
stantly threatening him and his family with destruc- 
tion, is worse than death. His friends all forsook 
him, or dared not appear in his behalf. He wrote a 
most afflicting account to your father, and begged 
him to claim protection for him, as acting for the 
United States ; but, as he never had any public 
character, or, rather, never was commissioned by 
Congress, it could not be done. Mr. Dumas, you 
know, has been engaged in the service of France, 
and has received a salary from that government, be- 
sides his being opposed to the measures of the Stadt- 
holder ; all of which renders him particularly obnox- 
ious to the Princess and her party. 

This nation piqued at the treaty of alliance 
which was last winter made between France and 
Holland, has been ever since seeking revenge, by 
fomenting the troubles in Holland, and seized the 
first opportunity she had in her power, to bully 
France. The death of Vergennes, the deranged 



398 LETTERS. 

State of the finances in France, and the dispute 
between the King and his Parliament, all, all have 
contributed to hasten the downfall of liberty in Hol- 
land. England has held a veiy high tone, and given 
it out, that, if France marched a single man to the 
assistance of Holland, it should be considered as a 
commencement of hostilities ; and, from the conduct 
of France, she appears to have been intimidated and 
held in awe by it. This is another lesson to us not 
" to put our trust in princes." England, not content 
with the tame and pacific conduct of France, is arm- 
ing with a zeal and eagerness really astonishing to 
every person of reflection, who can see no object 
which she can have in view adequate to or a compen- 
sation for the horror and distress she must bring up- 
on her subjects by the increase of expenses, and the 
accumulation of the national debt. 

If I was not present to hear and see it, I could 
scarcely credit that a whole people should not only 
tamely submit to the evils of war, but appear frantic 
with joy at the prospect ; led away by false glory, 
by their passions and their vices, they do not reflect 
upon past calamities nor approaching destruction ; 
and few of them have better reasons to offer for 
their conduct, than the lady with whom I was in 
company the other day, who hoped there would be 
a war. " Pray," said I, " how can you wish so 
much misery to mankind ? " " O," said she, " if 
there is a war, my brother and several of my friends 
will be promoted." In the general flame, which 



LETTERS. 399 

threatens Europe, I hope and pray our own country- 
may have wisdom sufficient to keep herself out of 
the fire. I am sure she has been a sufficiently 
burnt child. Remember me to your brothers, if I 
do not write to them. 

Your e.er affectionate mother, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. SHAW. 
Richmond Hill, (N. Y.), 27 September, 1789. 
I WRITE to you, my dear sister, not from the dis- 
puted banks of the Potomac, the Susquehanna, or the 
Delaware, but from the peaceful borders of the Hud- 
son ; a situation where the hand of nature has so 
lavishly displayed her beauties, that she has left 
scarcely any thing for her handmaid, art, to perform. 
The house in which we reside is situated upon a 
hill, the avenue to which is interspersed with forest 
trees, under which a shrubbery rather too luxuriant 
and wild has taken shelter, owing to its having been 
deprived by death, some years since, of its original 
proprietor, who kept it in perfect order. In front of 
the house, the noble Hudson rolls his majestic waves, 
bearing upon his bosom innumerable small vessels, 
which are constantly forwarding the rich products of 
the neighbouring soil to the busy hand of a more 
extensive commerce. Beyond the Hudson rises to 
our view the fertile country of the Jerseys, covered 



400 LETTERS. 

with a golden harvest, and pouring forth plenty like 
the cornucopia of Ceres. On the right hand, an ex- 
tensive plain presents us with a view of fields cover- 
ed with verdure, and pastures full of cattle. On 
the left, the city opens upon us, intercepted only by 
clumps of trees, and some rising ground, which 
serves to heighten the beauty of the scene, by ap- 
pearing to conceal a part. In the back ground, is a 
large flower-garden, enclosed with a hedge and some 
very handsome trees. On one side of it, a grove of 
pines and oaks fit for contemplation. 

" In this path 
How long soe'er the wanderer roves, each step 
Shall wake fresh beauties ; each last point present 
A different picture, new, and yet the same." 

If my days of fancy and romance were not past, 
I could find here an ample field for indulgence ; yet, 
amidst these delightful scenes of nature, my heart 
pants for the society of my dear relatives and friends 
who are too far removed from me. I wish most 
sincerely to return and pass the recess of Congress 
at my habitation in Braintree ; but the season of 
the year, to which Congress has adjourned, renders 
the attempt impracticable. Although I am not 
the only person who questions their making a Con- 
gress again until April, yet the punctuality of Mr. 
Adams to all public business would oblige him 
strictly to adhere to the day of adjournment, how- 
ever inconvenient it might prove to him. He has 
never been absent from his daily duty in Senate a 



LETTERS. 401 

single hour from their first meeting ; and the last 
month's business has pressed so hard, that his health 
appears to require a recess. 

Shall I ask my sister why she has not written me 
a line since I came to this place ? With regard to 
myself, I own I have been cautious of writing. I 
know that I stand in a delicate situation. I am fear- 
ful of touching upon political subjects ; yet, perhaps, 
there is no person who feels more interested in them. 
And, upon this occasion, I may congratulate my 
country upon the late judicial appointments, in which 
an assemblage of the greatest talents and abilities 
are united which any country can boast of; gen- 
tlemen in whom the public have great confidence, 
and who will prove durable pillars in support of our 
government. 

Mr. Jefferson is nominated for Secretary of State 
in the room of Mr. Jay, who is made Chief Justice. 
Thus have we the fairest prospect of sitting down 
under our own vine in peace, provided the restless 
spirit of certain characters, who foam and fret, is 
permitted only its hour upon the stage, and then shall 
no more be heard of, nor permitted to sow the seeds 
of discord among the real defenders of the faith. 
Your affectionate sister, 

A. A. 



26 



• 

402 LETTERS. 



New York, 6 September, 1790. 

MY DEAR SIR, 

You ask in one of your letters to Mr. Adams, "What 
is become of Mrs. Adams, that I do not hear from 
her r 

If my heart had not done you more justice than 
my pen, I would disown it. I have so long omitted 
writing to you, that my conscience has been a very 
severe accuser of me. But, be assured, my dear 
Sir, that I never fail to talk of you with pleasure, and 
think of you with affection. I place the hours spent 
at the Hyde amongst some of the most pleasurable 
of my days, and I esteem your friendship as one of 
the most valuable acquisitions that I made in your 
country ; a country that I should most sincerely re- 
joice to visit again, if I could do it without crossing 
the ocean. I have sometimes been suspected of 
partiality, for the preference which I have given to 
England ; and, were I to live out of America, that 
country would have been my choice. 

I have a situation here, which, for natural beauty 
may vie with the most delicious spot I ever saw. It 
is a mile and a half distant from the city of New 
York. The house is situated upon an eminence ; at 
an agreeable distance flows the noble Hudson, bear- 

1 This letter has been printed in the Notes to the Memoirs of 
Thomas Brand-Hollis, Esq., by Dr. Disney, from which it is taken. 



LETTERS. 403 

ing upon its bosom the fruitful productions of the 
adjacent country. On my right hand, are fields 
beautifully variegated with grass and grain, to a great 
extent, like the valley of Honiton in Devonshire. 
Upon my left, the city opens to view, intercepted, 
here and there, by a rising ground, and an ancient 
oak. In front, beyond the Hudson, the Jersey shores 
present the exuberance of a rich, well-cultivated 
soil. The venerable oaks and broken ground, cov- 
ered with wild shrubs, which surround me, give a 
natural beauty to the spot, which is truly enchanting. 
A lovely variety of birds serenade me morning and 
evening, rejoicing in their liberty and security ; for I 
have, as much as possible, prohibited the grounds 
from invasion, and sometimes almost wished for 
game laws, when my orders have not been sufficient- 
ly regarded. The partridge, the woodcock, and the 
pigeon are too great temptations to the sportsmen to 
withstand. How greatly would it add to my happi- 
ness to welcome here my much esteemed friend. 
'T is true, we have a large portion of the blue and 
gold, of which you used to remind me, when you 
thought me an Egyptian; but, however I might 
hanker after the good things of America, I have 
been sufficiently taught to value and esteem other 
countries besides my own. 

You were pleased to inform us, that your adopted 
family^ flourished in your soil ; mine has received an 
addition. Mrs. Smith, Mr. Adams's daughter, and 

1 His trees. The allusion is explained in a preceding letter, 
p. 352. 



404 LETTERS. 

the wife of Colonel W. Stephens Smith, respecting 
the name of the great literary benefactor of her 
native state, and in grateful remembrance of the 
friendly attention and patriotic character of its pres- 
ent possessor, has named his new-born son Thom- 
as HoUis. She desires me to present you her 
affectionate remembrance. Mr. Adams is absent 
upon a journey, or he would have written you a 
letter of a later date than that which Mr. Knox 
is the bearer of. This gentleman is a brother of 
our Secretary of War, and is appointed consul to 
Dublin. He is intelligent, and can answer you any 
question respecting our government and politics, 
which you may wish to ask ; but, if he should not 
see you, I know it will give you pleasure to learn 
that our union is complete, by the accession of Rhode 
Island ; that our government acquires strength, con- 
fidence, and stability daily ; that peace is in our 
borders, and plenty in our dwellings; and we earn- 
estly pray, that the kindling flames of war, which 
appear to be bursting out in Europe, may by no 
means be extended to this rising nation. We enjoy 
freedom in as great a latitude as is consistent with 
our security and happiness. God grant that we may 
rightly estimate our blessings. 

Pray remember me, in the most affectionate terms, 
to Dr. Price and to Mrs. Jebb ; and be assured, my 
dear sir, that I am, with every sentiment of regard 
and esteem, Yours, &c. 

Abigail Adams. 



LETTERS. 405 



TO BIRS. SMITH. 

Philadelpliia, 21 November, 1790. 



MY PEAR, 

I SUPPOSE you wish to hear from me and from your 
little boy. He is very well, and very amusing, as 
usual ; talks of William, and of the other papa ; is 
as fond as ever of the " fosses," and has a great ad- 
dition to his amusement and pleasures from a flock 
of sheep, which are daily pastured by a shepherd and 
his dog upon the lawn in front of our house. Bush 
Hill, as it is called, though by the way there re- 
mains neither bush nor shrub upon it, and very few 
trees, except the pine grove behind it, — yet Bush 
Hill is a very beautiful place. But the grand and 
sublime I left at Richmond Hill. The cultivation in 
sight and prospect are superior, but the Schu3dkill is 
no more like the Hudson, than I to Hercules. The 
house is better finished within ; but, when you come 
to compare the conveniences for store-room, kitch- 
en, closets, &c., there is nothing like it in the whole 
house. As chance governs many actions of my 
life, when we arrived in the city, we proceeded to 
the house. By accident, the vessel, with our furni- 
ture, had arrived the day before, and Briesler was 
taking in the first load into a house all green-paint- 
ed, the workmen there with their brushes in hand. 
This was a cold comfort in a house, where I suppose 
no fire had been kindled for several years, except in 



406 LETTERS. 

a back kitchen ; but, as I expected many things of 
this kind, I was not disappointed nor discomfited. 
As no wood nor fodder had been provided before- 
hand, we could only turn about, and go to the City 
Tavern for the night. 

The next morning was pleasant, and I ventured 
to come up and take possession ; but what confu- 
sion ! Boxes, barrels, chairs, tables, trunks, &c. ; 
every thing to be arranged, and few hands to accom- 
plish it, for Briesler was obliged to be at the vessel. 
The first object was to get fires ; the next to get up 
beds ; but the cold, damp rooms, the new paint, 
dec, proved almost too much for me. On Friday 
we arrived here, and late on Saturday evening we 
got our furniture in. On Sunday, Thomas was laid 
up with the rheumatism ; on Monday, I was obliged 
to give Louisa an emetic ; on Tuesday, Mrs. Bries- 
ler was taken with her old pain in her stomach ; 
and, to complete the whole, on Thursday, Polly was 
seized with a violent pleuritic fever. She has been 
twice bled, a blister upon her side, and has not been 
out of bed since, only as she is taken up to have her 
bed made. And every day, the stormy ones ex- 
cepted, from eleven until three, the house is filled 
with ladies and gentlemen. As all this is no more 
nor worse than I expected, I bear it without repin- 
ing, and feel thankful that I have weathered it out 
without a relapse, though some days I have not been 
able to sit up. 

Mrs. Bingham has been twice to see me. I think 



LETTERS. 407 

she is more amiable and beautiful than ever. I have 
seen many very fine women since I have been here. 
Our Nancy Hamilton is the same unafTecied, affable 
girl we formerly knew her. She made many kind in- 
quiries after you ; so did Mrs. Bingham. I have not 
yet begun to return visits, as the ladies expect to 
find me at home, and I have not been in a state of 
health to do it ; nor am yet in a very eligible state 
to receive their visits. I, however, endeavoured 
to have one room decent to receive them, which, 
with my own chamber, is as much as I can boast 
of, at present, being in tolerable order. The dif- 
ficulty of getting workmen, Mr. Hamilton pleads as 
an excuse for the house not being ready. Mrs. 
Lear was in to see me yesterday, and assures me 
that I am much better off* than Mrs. Washington will 
be when she arrives, for that their house is not likely 
to be completed this year. And, when all is done, it 
will not be Broadway. If New York wanted any 
revenge for the removal, the citizens might be glut- 
ted if they would come here, where every article 
has become almost double in price, and where it is 
not possible for Congress, and the appendages, to 
be half as well accommodated for a long time. One 
would suppose that the people thought Mexico was 
before them, and that Congress were the possessors. 

28 November. Sunday. 
I wrote you thus far on Sunday last. Polly is on 
the recovery, but your brother Thomas is very ill, 



408 LETTERS. 

and almost helpless with the rheumatism. You re- 
collect how he formerly had it. It seems as if sick- 
ness followed me wherever I go. The President 
got to town on Saturday ; I have not yet seen him 
or Mrs. Washington. We have had two severe 
storms ; the last was snow. Poor Mrs. Knox is in 
great tribulation about her furniture. The vessel 
sailed the day before the first storm, and had not 
been heard of on Friday last. I had a great misfor- 
tune happen to my best trunk of clothes. The ves- 
sel sprung a leak, and my trunk got wet a foot high, 
by which means I have several gowns spoiled ; and 
the one you worked is the most damaged, and a 
black satin ; — the blessed effects of tumbling about 
the world. Adieu. Write me soon. Love to all. 

A. A. 



TO MRS. SMITH. 

Bush Hill, 26 December, 1790. 

MY DEAR CHILD, 

I WOULD tell you that I had an ague in my face, and 
a violent toothache, which has prevented my writing 
to you all day ; but I am determined to brave it out 
this evening, and inquire how you do. Without 
further complaint, I have become so tender, from 
keeping so much in a warm chamber, that, as soon 
as I set my foot out, I am sure to come home with 
some new pain or ache. 

On Friday evening last, I went with Charles to 



LETTERS. 409 

the drawing-room, being the first of my appearance 
in public. The room became full before I left it, 
and the circle very brilliant. How could it be other- 
wise, when the dazzling Mrs. Bingham and her 
beautiful sisters were there ; the Misses Allen, and 
Misses Chew ; in short, a constellation of beauties ? 
I am serious when I say so, for I really think them 
what I describe them. Mrs. Bingham has certainly 
given laws to the ladies here, in fashion and ele- 
gance ; their manners and appearance are superior 
to what I have seen. I have been employed, for 
several days last week, in returning visits. Mrs. 
Powell, I join the general voice in pronouncing a 
very interesting woman. She is aunt to Mrs. Bing- 
ham, and is one of the ladies you would be pleased 
with. She looks turned of fifty, is polite and fluent 
as you please, motherly and friendly. 

I have received many invitations to tea and cards, 
in the European style, but have hitherto declined 
them, on account of my health and the sickness of 
your brother. I should like to be acquainted with 
these people, and there is no other way of coming at 
many of them, but by joining in their parties ; but 
the roads to and from Bush Hill are all clay, and, in 
open weather, up to the horses' knees ; so you may 
suppose that much of my time must be spent at 
home ; but this, you know, I do not regret, nor is it 
any mortification to me. If I could send for you, as 
usual, and my dear boys, it would add greatly to 
my pleasure and happiness. IMrs. Otis comes fre- 



410 



LETTERS. 



quenlly, and passes the day with me, and yesterday 
I had the whole family to keep Christmas with me. 
The weather is winter in all respects, and such a 
plain of snow puts out my eyes. We have a warm 
side, as well as a cold one, to our house. If there is 
any thing we can do for you, let me know. You 
cannot regret your separation more than I do, for 
morn, noon, and night, you rest upon the mind and 
heart of your ever affectionate 

A. Adams. 



TO MRS. SMITH. 

Philadelphia, 8 January, 1791. 

• MY DEAR MRS. SMITH, 

I RECEIVED, by Mr. King, your letter of December 
30th. I am uneasy if I do not hear from you once 
a week, thous!;h you have not any thing more to tell 
me than that you and your little ones are well. I 
think you do perfectly right in refusing to go into 
public during the absence of Colonel Smith. The 
society of a few friends is that from which most 
pleasure and satisfaction are to be derived. Under 
the wing of parents, no notice would be taken of 
your going into public, or mixing in any amuse- 
ment ; but the eyes of the world are always placed 
upon those whose situation may possibly subject 
them to censure, and even the friendly attentions of 
one's acquaintance are liable to be misconstrued, so 
that a lady cannot possibly be too circumspect. I 



LETTERS. 411 

do not mention this to you through apprehension 
of your erring, but only as approving your determi- 
nation. 

I should spend a very dissipated winter, if I were 
to accept of one half the invitations I receive, par- 
ticularly to the routes, or tea and cards. Even 
Saturday evening is not excepted, and I refused an 
invitation of that kind for this evening. I have been 
to one assembly. The dancing was very good ; the 
company of the best kind. The President and 
Madam, the Vice-President and Madam, Ministers of 
State, and their Madams, &c. ; but the room despica- 
ble ; the etiquette, — it was difficult to say where it 
was to be found. Indeed, it was not New York ; 
but you must not report this from me. The mana- 
gers have been very polite to me and my family. I 
have been to one play, and here again we have been 
treated with much politeness. The actors came and 
informed us that a box was prepared for us. The 
Vice-President thanked them for their civility, and 
told them that he would attend whenever the Presi- 
dent did. And last Wednesday we were all there. 
The house is equal to most of the theatres we meet 
with out of France. It is very neat, and prettily 
fitted up ; the actors did their best ; " The School 
for Scandal " was the play. I missed the divine 
Farren ; but upon the whole it was very well per- 
formed. On Tuesday next I go to a dance at Mr. 
Chew's, and on Friday sup at Mr. Clymer's ; so you 
see I am likely to be amused.- 



412 LETTERS. 

We have had very severe weather for several 
weeks ; I think the coldest I have known since my 
return from abroad. The climate of Old England 
for me ; people do not grow old half so fast there ; 
two-thirds of the year here, we must freeze or melt. 
Public affairs go on so smoothly here, that we 
scarcely know that Congress are sitting ; North Car- 
olina a little delirious, and Virginia trying to give 
law. They make some subject for conversation ; but, 
after all, the bluster will scarcely produce a mouse. 

Present me kindly to your mamma and sisters. 
How I long to send for you all, as in days past ; my 
dear little boys, too. As to John, we grow every 
day fonder of him. He has spent an hour this 
afternoon in driving his grandpapa round the room 
with a willow stick. I hope to see you in April. 
Congress will adjourn in March, and it is thought 
will not meet again till December. 

Good night, my dear. Heaven's blessings alight 
on you and yours, 

A. Adams. 



TO MRS. SMITH. 

Philadelphia, 25 January, 1791. 

MY DEAR CHILD, 

You must not flatter yourself with the expectation 
of hearing from Colonel Smith until the February 
packet arrives. It is as soon as you ought to think of 
it. You see by the papers, that a minister is in nom- 



LETTERS. 413 

ination from England, and, Mrs. C writes, will 

come out soon. Mrs. P , from whom I received 

a letter, writes me by the last packet, that Mr. Friere 
is certainly appointed from • Portugal, and that he 
only waits for the arrival of Count , his succes- 
sor, in England, before he sails for America. Mrs. 
P likewise communicates the agreeable intelli- 
gence of Mr. P 's having forsaken the bottle, and 

that the Countess B had another child, and was 

vastly happy, beloved by her dear Count, &c. ; 

all in the true style of Mrs. P . She desires to 

be kindly remembered to you and the Colonel. 

Present me kindly to all my New York friends. 
That I was attached to that place is most true, and I 
shall always remember with pleasure the fifteen 
months passed there ; but, if I had you and your fam- 
ily, I could be very well pleased here, for there is an 
agreeable society and friendliness kept up with all 
the principal families, who appear to live in great 
harmony, and we meet at all the parties nearly the 
same company. To-morrow the President dines 
with us, the Governor, the Ministers of State, and 
some Senators. Of all the ladies I have seen and 
conversed with here, Mrs. Powell is the best inform- 
ed. She is a friendly, affable, good woman, spright- 
ly, full of conversation. There is a Mrs. Allen, 
who is as well-bred a woman as I have seen in any 
country, and has three daughters, who may be styled 
the three Graces. 

My best respects to your good mamma and family. 



414 LETTERS. 

Tell Mrs. C I hope she makes a very obedient 

wife. I am sure she will be a good one. I think I 
shall see you in April. Why do you say that you 
feel alone in the world ? I used to think that I felt 
so too ; but, when I lost my mother, and afterwards 
my father, that " alone " appeared to me in a much 
more formidable light. It was like cutting away 
the main pillars of a building ; and, though no friend 
can supply the absence of a good husband, yet, 
whilst our parents live, we cannot feel unprotected. 
To them we can apply for advice and direction, 
sure that it will be given with affection and tender- 
ness. We know not what we can do or bear, till 
called to the trial. I have passed through many 
painful ones, yet have enjoyed as much happiness 
through life as usually falls to the lot of mortals ; 
and, when my enjoyments have been damped, cur- 
tailed, or molested, it has not been owing to vice, 
that great disturber of human happiness, but some- 
times to folly, in myself or others, or the hand of 
Providence, which has seen fit to afflict me. I feel 
grateful for the blessings which surround me, and 
murmur not at those which are withheld. — But my 
pen runs on, and my lads, at whose table I write, 
wonder what mamma can find to write about. 

Adieu. My love to the children. From your ever 
affectionate A. Adams. 



LETTERS. 415 



TO MRS. SMITH. 

Philadelphia, 21 February, 1791. 

MY PEAR CHILD, 

I RECEIVED yours of February 13th, and was happy 
to learn that you and your little ones were well. I 
wrote to you by the Chief Justice, and sent your silk 
by him. He promised me to visit you, and from 
him you will learn how we all are. We have had, 
ever since this month began, a succession of bad 
weather, and, for this week past, the coldest weather 
that I have experienced this winter. The ground is 
now covered with snow. This, if it would last, 
would let me out of my cage, and enable me to go 
to the assembly on the birth-day of the President, 
which will be on Tuesday next. On Thursday last 
I dined with the President, in company with the 
ministers and ladies of the court. He was more 
than usually social. I asked him after Humphreys, 
from whom I knew he had received despatches a 
few days before. He said that he was well, and at 
Lisbon. When I returned home, I told your father 
that I conjectured Mr. Humphreys would be nominat- 
ed for Lisbon, and the next day the Senate received a 
message, with his nomination, as resident minister at 
the Court of Portugal ; the President having received 
official information that a minister was appointed 
here, Mr. Friere, as I before informed you. He 
asked very affectionately after you and the children, 



416 LETTERS. 

and at table picked the sugar-plums from a cake, 
and requested me to take them for master John. 
Some suppose, that, if your husband was here, he 
would have the command of the troops which are to 
be raised and sent against the Indians. If such an 
idea as that is in his mind, I am happy that your 
friend is three thousand miles distant. I have no 
fancy that a man, who has already hazarded his life 
in defence of his country, should risk a tomahawk 
and scalping-knife, where, though a conqueror, no 
glory is to be obtained, though much may be lost. 
I most sincerely hope he may be successful in his 
private enterprise ; for the way to command For- 
tune is to be as independent of her as possible. 

The equanimity of your disposition will lead you 
to a patient submission to the allotments of Provi- 
dence. The education of your children will occupy 
much of your time, and you will always keep in 
mind the great importance of first principles, and 
the necessity of instilling the precepts of morality 
very early into their minds. Youth is so imitative, 
that it catches at every thing. I have a great opinion 
of Dr. Watts's '' Moral Songs for Children." They 
are adapted to their capacities, and they compre- 
hend all the social and relative duties of life. They 
impress the young mind with the ideas of the Su- 
preme Being, as their creator, benefactor, and pre- 
server. They teach brotherly love, sisterly affec- 
tion, and filial respect and reverence. I do not 
know any book so well calculated for the early peri- 



LETTERS. 417 

od of life ; and they may be made as pleasant to them, 
by the method of instructing, as a hundred little sto- 
ries, which are taught them, containing neither a rule 
of life, nor a sentiment worth retaining, such as little 
John will now run over, of " Jack and Jill," and 
" Little Jack Horner." As a trial of their memory, 
and a practice for their tongues, these may be use- 
ful, but no other way. 

I am sometimes led to think that human nature is 
a very perverse thing, and much more given to evil 
than good. I never had any of my own children so 
much under my eye, and so little mixed with other 
children or with servants, as this little boy of yours. 
Whatever appears is self-taught, and, though a very 
good boy and very orderly, he frequently surprises 
me with a new air, a new word, or some action, that I 
should ascribe to others, if he mixed with them at all. 
He is never permitted to go into the kitchen. Ev- 
ery day, after dinner, he sets his grandpapa to draw 
him about in a chair, which is generally done for 
half an hour, to the derangement of my carpet and 
the amusement of his grandpapa. 

Remember me affectionately to all inquiring friends. 
I hope to see you ere long. 

Your ever affectionate mother, 

A. Adams. 



27 



418 LETTERS. 



TO MRS. SHAW. 
Bush Hill; (near Philadelphia,) 20 March, 1791. 

MY DEAR SISTER, 

I RECEIVED, by Dr. W , your kind letter of Feb- 
ruary 14th. He was very punctual to his commission. 
He has been three times to visit us. He came out this 
afternoon to let me know that he should leave Phila- 
delphia on Tuesday. By him I have to thank my dear 
sister for three letters, and to confess myself much 
in arrears. 'T is in vain to say that I have had a 
sick family ; that I have had a large family ; that I 
have been engaged in company. These are poor 
excuses for not writing ; nor will I exculpate myself 
by alleging that I wanted a subject. My pride would 
not suffer such a plea. What, then, has been the 
cause ^ " Confess freely, and say that it was mere 
indolence, — real laziness," as in truth I fear it has 
been. Yet conscience, that faithful monitor, has 
reprehended me veiy, very often. I was very sick ; 
(so sick, that I have not yet recovered the shock I 
received from it,) for near two months before I left 
New York. When I got to this place, I found this 
house just calculated to make the whole family sick ; 
cold, damp, and wet with new paint. A fine place 
for an invalid ; but, through a kind Providence, I 
sustained it, though others suffered. Happily, after 
a very tedious two months, Thomas recovered so as 
to get abroad ; but his health is now very infirm, and 



LETTERS. 419 

I fear an attendance upon two offices through the 
day, and studying through the evening at home, is 
not calculated to mend it. But it is a maxim here, 
that he who dies with studying dies in a good cause, 
and may go to another world much better calculated 
to improve his talents, than if he had died a block- 
head. Well, knowledge is a fine thing, and mother 
Eve thought so ; but she smarted so severely for 
hers, that most of her daughters have been afraid of 
it since. 

We have had a very severe winter in this State, 
as you may judge when I tell you that we have 
consumed forty cords of wood in four months. It 
has been as cold as any winter we have at the north- 
ward. T! e 17th and 18th of this month I dined 
with all my windows open, put out the fires, and ate 
ice to cool me ; the glasses at 80. This is the 
20th. Yesterday it snowed nearly the whole day, 
and to-day it is a keen northwester ; and I pre- 
sume it will freeze hard to-night. Yet the verdure is 
beautiful ; full as much as I shall find by the middle 
of May in Massachusetts, where I hope then to be. 
Yet I shall have some regrets at leaving this place, 
just as the season begins to open all its beauties 
upon me. I am told that this spot is very delightful 
as a summer residence. The house is spacious. 
The views from it are rather beautiful than sublime ; 
the country round has too much of the level to be 
in my style. The appearance of uniformity wearies 
the eye, and confines the imagination. We have a 



420 LETTERS. 

fine view of the whole city from our windows ; a 
beautiful grove behind the house, through which 
there is a spacious gravel walk, guarded by a num- 
ber of marble statues, whose genealogy I have not 
yet studied, as the last week is the first time I have 
visited them. A variety of fine fields of wheat and 
grass are in front of the house, and, on the right 
hand, a pretty view of the Schuylkill presents itself. 
But now for the reverse of the picture. We are 
only two miles from town, yet have I been more 
of a prisoner this winter than I ever was in my 
life. The road from hence to the pavement is one 
mile and a half, the soil a brick clay, so that, when 
there has been heavy rain, or a thaw, you must 
wallow to the city through a bed of mortar without 
a bottom, the horses sinking to their knees. If it 
becomes cold, then the holes and the roughness are 
intolerable. From the inhabitants of this place I 
have received every mark of politeness and civility. 
The ladies here are well-educated, well-bred, and 
well-dressed. There is much more society than in 
New York, and I am much better pleased and satis- 
fied than I expected to be when I was destined to 
remove here. Adieu. 

Your sister, 

A. A. 



LETTERS. 421 



TO MRS. SMITH. 

Quincy, 3 February, 1794. 

MY DEAR MRS. SMITH, 

I HAVE not written to you since I received yours of 
January 5th. I go from home but very little, yet I 
do not find my time hang heavy upon my hands. 
You know that I have no aversion to join in the 
cheerful circle, or mix in the world, when opportu- 
nity offers. I think it tends to rub off those austeri- 
ties, which age is apt to contract, and reminds us, 
as Goldsmith says, " that we once were young." 
Whilst our presence is easy to youth, it will tend to 
guide and direct them. 

" Be to their faults a little blind, 
Be to their virtues ever kind, 
And fix the padlock on the mind." 

To-morrow our theatre is to open. Every pre- 
caution has been taken to prevent such unpleasant 
scenes as you represent are introduced upon yours. 
I hope the managers will be enabled to govern the 
mobility, or the whole design of the entertainment 
will be thwarted. 

Since I wrote you last, a renewal of the horrid 
tragedies has been acted in France, and the Queen 
is no more. 

" Set is her star of life ; — the pouring storm 

Turns its black deluge from that aching headj 
The fiends of murder quit that bloodless form, 
And the last animating hope is fled. 



422 LETTERS. 

" Blest is the hour of peace, though cursed the hand 
Which snaps the thread of life's disastrous loom 5 
Thrice blest the great, invincible command, 
That deals the solace of the slumbering tomb." 

Not content with loading her with ignominy, whilst 
living, they blacken her memory by ascribing to 
her the vilest crimes. Would to Heaven that the 
destroying angel might put up his sword, and say, 
" It is enough ; " that he would bid hatred, mad- 
ness, and murder cease. 

" Peace o'er the world her olive branch extend, 
And white-robed Innocence from Heaven descend." 

I wish, most ardently, that every arm extended 
against that unhappy country might be withdrawn, 
and they left to themselves, to form whatever con- 
stitution they choose ; and whether it is republican or 
monarchical is not of any consequence to us, pro- 
vided it is a regular government of some form or 
other, which may secure the faith of treaties, and 
due subordination to the laws, whilst so many gov- 
ernments are tottering to the foundations. Even in 
one of the freest and happiest in the world, restless 
spirits will aim at disturbing it. They cry " A lion ! 
a lion ! " when no real dangers exist, but from their 
own halloo, which in time may raise other ferocious 
beasts of prey. 

I hope to hear from you soon. I wrote to you by 
Dr. Appleton. Your grandmother has been very 
sick, and is still in so poor a way that I have very 
little expectation of her ever going abroad again. 



LETTERS. 423 

She is cheerful and pleasant, and loves to hear from 
her children and grandchildren and great-grandchil- 
dren. She has ever been a woman of exemplary- 
benevolence, a friendly, open, candid mind, with a 
naturally good understanding, and zealously anxious 
for the welfare and prosperity of her family, which 
she has always promoted by every exertion in her 
power. Her only anxiety seems to be, lest she should 
live to be a burden to her friends ; but this will not 
be her hard lot. Your mother, 

A. Adams. 



TO MRS. SMITH. 

Quincy, 8 March, 1794. 

MY DEAR CHILD, 

I RECEIVED your kind letter of February 12th, as 
well as one, by Mr. Storer, of February 2d. I have 
been every day since thinking that 1 would write to 
you, but a superior duty has occupied all my time 
for six weeks past. I have been only two days 
(when I was too sick to attend) absent from the 
sick bed of your grandmother. Your desire, that 
her last days might be rendered as comfortable as it 
is possible to make them, has been fulfilled. There 
has been no attention on my part, nor any comfort 
in my power to render her, that she has one moment 
wanted. She had spent a day with me the week 
she was taken sick. A severe storm had prevented 
me from hearing from her for a couple of days. T 



424 LETTERS. 

then learnt that she had a violent cold, as it was 
supposed. I went immediately to see her, and 
found her sick with a lung fever. Her grand- 
daughters have been affectionate, tender, and watch- 
ful of her, but she has lived all the days of her ap- 
pointed time, and is now ready to depart. Her 
senses are bright and quick, her hearing better than 
for years past. Upon looking back, she has no re- 
grets ; upon looking forward, she has all hope and 
comfort. Her hourly wish is to be at rest. She 
took her leave of me this evening, with her blessing 
upon me and mine to the latest posterity. I told her 
to-day that you desired to be remembered to her. 
She asked me if I thought there was any thing, 
which she had, that you would accept of. I answer- 
ed, that what she had I thought her granddaughters, 
who were with her, deserved, and that I was sure 
you would value her blessing more than any thing 
else. " Well," she replied, " I pray God to bless 
her and her children ; and tell all who belong to me 
to consider, that a virtuous and a religious life is the 
only solid comfort upon a death-bed." She has 
mourned much, since her sickness, that she should 
never see your father again ; but she now seems 
reconciled to the thought of her approaching dissolu- 
tion, which cannot be far distant. She has no rest, 
night nor day, her cough is so constant and trouble- 
some ; and she can take scarcely any nourishment. 
If she had reached the 17th of this month, she would 
have been eighty-five years old. I can say with Pope 



LETTERS. 425 

upon a similar occasion, " that my constant attendance 
upon her has indeed affected my mind very much, 
and lessened my desire of long life, since the best 
that can come of it is a miserable benediction." 
" Nothing," says Seneca, " is so melancholy a cir- 
cumstance in human life, or so soon reconciles us to 
the thought of our own death, as the reflection and 
prospect of one friend after another dropping around 
us. Who would stand alone, the sole remaining 
ruin, the last tottering column of all the fabric of 
friendship, seemingly so strong, once so large, and 
yet so suddenly sunk and buried ? " 

Present me kindly to all my friends. In some 
future letter I may notice several things in yours ; 
but my mind is too much solemnized by the scene 
before me to add any thing more, than that I am 
Your affectionate mother, 

A. Adams. 



TO MRS. SMITH. 

Quincy, 10 March, 1794. 

MY DEAR MRS. SMITH, 

Although the scenes in which I have been engaged 
for six weeks past, have been very different from 
those which you describe, I have been amused and 
entertained by your account. Though I cannot say- 
that I am charmed with your hero's personal ac- 
complishments, as you describe them, yet you find 

*' A man of wealth is dubbed a man of worth j 
Venus can give him form, and Anstis birth." 



426 



LETTERS. 



I think our ladies ought to be cautious of foreio-n<- 
ers. I am almost led to suspect a spy in eveiy 
strange character. It is much too easy a matter for 
a man, if he has property, to get introduced into 
company in this country of the best kind, and that 
without recommendations. The entertainment you 
describe was really very curious. 

"Men overloaded with a large estate, 
May spill their treasure in a queer conceit ; " 

and I am sure this was of that kind. 

You may mix in these scenes, and sometimes 
join in the society ; but neither your habits, your 
inclination, nor your natural disposition are formed 
for them. By nature you have a grave and thought- 
ful cast of temper, by habit you have been trained 
to more rational and durable pleasures, and by in- 
clination you delight more in them. The frivolity 
of the present day has been much increased by our 
foreign connexions. I pray Heaven to preserve us 
from that dissoluteness of manners, which is the 
bane of society, and the destroyer of domestic happi- 
ness. I think, with the poet, 

" If individual good engage our hope, 
Domestic virtues give the largest scope; 
If plans of public eminence we trace, 
Domestic virtues are its surest base." 

You complain that there is, in the rising genera- 
tion, a want of principle. This is a melancholy 
truth. I am no friend of bigotry ; yet I think the 
freedom of inquiry, and the general toleration of re- 



LETTERS. 427 

ligious sentiments, have been, like all other good 
things, perverted, and, under that shelter, deism, and 
even atheism, have found refuge. Let us, for one 
moment, reflect as rational creatures, upon our " be- 
ing, end, and aim," and we shall feel our dependence, 
we shall be convinced of our frailty, and satisfied that 
we must look beyond this transitory scene for a hap- 
piness large as our wishes, and boundless as our de- 
sires. True, genuine religion is calm in its inquiries, 
deliberate in its resolves, and steady in its conduct ; 
is open to light and conviction, and labors for im- 
provement. It studies to promote love and union 
in civil and in religious society. It approves virtue, 
and the truths which promote it, and, as the Scripture 
expresses it, " is peaceable, gentle, easy to be en- 
treated." It is the author of our hope, the ornament 
of youth, the comfort of age ; our support in affliction 
and adversity, and the solace of that solemn hour, 
which we must all experience. Train up, my dear 
daughter, your children, to a sober and serious sense 
of the duty which they owe to the Supreme Being. 
Impress their infant minds with a respect for the 
Sabbath. This is too much neglected by the rising 
generation. Accustom them to a constant attend- 
ance upon public worship, and enforce it by your 
own example and precept, as often as you can with 
any convenience attend. It is a duty, for which we 
are accountable to the Supreme Being. 

My pen has again taken a serious turn. I shall 
not apologize for it. Your own letter led to these 



428 LETTERS. 

reflections ; and I am sure they flow from a heart 
anxiously solicitous for the happiness of you and 
yours. That they may make a due impression, is 
the ardent and affectionate wish of 
Your mother, 

A. Adams. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Quincy, 8 February, 1797. 

" The sun is dressed in brightest beams, 
To give thy honors to the day." 

And may it prove an auspicious prelude to each 
ensuing season. You have this day to declare your- 
self head of a nation. " And now, O Lord, my 
God, thou hast made thy servant ruler over the peo- 
ple. Give unto him an understanding heart, that he 
may know how to go out and come in before this 
great people ; that he may discern between good and 
bad. For who is able to judge this thy so great a 
people ? " were the words of a royal sovereign ; 
and not less applicable to him who is invested with 
the chief magistracy of a nation, though he wear not 
a crown, nor the robes of royalty. 

My thoughts and my meditations are with you, 
though personally absent ; and my petitions to 
Heaven are, that " the things which make for peace 
may not be hidden from your eyes." My feelings 
are not those of pride or ostentation, upon the occa- 
sion. They are solemnized by a sense of the obli- 



LETTERS. 429 

gallons, the important trusts, and numerous duties 
connected with it. That you may be enabled to 
discharge them with honor to yourself, with justice 
and impartiality to your country, and with satisfac- 
tion to this great people, shall be the daily prayer 
of your 

A. A. 



TO JOHN ADAMS. 

Quincy, 26 April, 1797. 

MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

This, I hope, is the last letter which you will receive 
from me at Quincy. The funeral rites performed, I 
prepare to set out on the morrow. I long to leave a 
place, where every scene and object wears a gloom, 
or looks so to me. My agitated mind wants repose. 
I have twice the present week met my friends and 
relatives, and taken leave of them in houses of 
mourning. I have asked, " Was all this necessary to 
wean me from the world .? Was there danger of 
my fixing a too strong attachment upon it ? Has 
it any allurements, which could make me forget, 
that here 1 have no abiding-place ? " All, all is un- 
doubtedly just and right. Our aged parent is gone 
to rest.^ My mind is relieved from any anxiety on 
her account. I have no fears lest she should be left 

1 The mother ofJNIr. Adams, who survived the illness described 
in a preceding letter of March 8th, 1791, died at this time, at the 
age of eighty-eight. 



430 LETTERS. 

alone, and receive an injury. I have no apprehen- 
sions, that she should feel any want of aid or assist- 
ance, or fear of becoming burdensome. She fell 
asleep, and is happy. 

Mary,^ in the prime of life, when, if ever, it is 
desirable, became calm, resigned, and willing to 
leave the world. She made no objection to her sis- 
ter's going, or to mine, but always said ^he should 
go first. 

I have received your letters of April 16th and 
19th. I want no courting to come. I am ready 
and willing to follow my husband wherever he 
chooses ; but the hand of Heaven has arrested me. 
Adieu, my dear friend. Excuse the melancholy 
strain of my letter. From the abundance of the 
heart the stream flows. 

Affectionately your 

A. Adams. 



TO THOMAS B. ADAMS. 

Washington, 13 November, 1800. 
Well, my dear son. South Carolina has behaved as 
your father always said she would. The conse- 
quence to us, personally, is, that we retire from 
public life. For myself and family, I have few re- 
grets. At my age, and with my bodily infirmities, 
I shall be happier at Quincy. Neither my habits, 

1 A niece of the writer. 



LETTERS. 431 

nor my education or inclinations, have led me to an 
expensive style of living, so that on that score I have 
little to mourn over. If I did not rise with dignity, 
I can at least fall with ease, which is the more diffi- 
cult task. I wish your father's circumstances were 
not so limited and circumscribed, as they must be, 
because he cannot indulge himself in those im- 
provements upon his farm, which his inclination 
leads him to, and which would serve to amuse him, 
and contribute to his health. I feel not any resent- 
ment against those who are coming into power, and 
only wish the future administration of the govern- 
ment may be as productive of the peace, happiness, 
and prosperity of the nation, as the two former ones 
have been. I leave to time the unfolding of a dra- 
ma. I leave to posterity to reflect upon the times 
past ; and I leave them characters to contemplate. 
My own intention is to return to Quincy as soon as 
I conveniently can ; I presume in the month of Jan- 
uary. 

Governor Davie arrived yesterday with the treaty. 
Judge Ellsworth was landed in England for the 
benefit of his health. The public curiosity will be 
soon satisfied. Peace with France, — a revenue in- 
creased beyond any former years, — our prospects 
brightening upon every side. What must be the 
thoughts and the reflections of those, who, calling 
themselves Federalists, have placed their country in 
a situation full of dangers and perils ; who have 
wantonly thrown away the blessings Heaven seemed 



432 LETTERS. 

to have in reserve for them ? The defection of 
New York has been the source. That defection was 
produced by the intrigues of two men. One of 
them sowed the seeds of discontent and division 
amongst the Federalists, and the other seized the 
lucky moment of mounting into power upon the 
shoulders of Jefferson. The triumph of the Jacobins 
is immoderate, and the Federalists deserve it. It is 
an old and a just proverb, " Never halloo until you 
are out of the woods." So completely have they 
gulled one another by their Southern promises, 
which have no more faith, when made to Northern 
men, than lovers' vows. 

I have not heard from New York since I wrote 
you last. 

I am, my dear Thomas, 

Your ever affectionate mother, 

A. Adams. 



TO MRS. SMITH. 

Washington, 21 November, 1800. 

MY DEAR CHILD, 

I ARRIVED here on Sunday last, and without meeting 
with any accident worth noticing, except losing our- 
selves when we left Baltimore, and going eight or 
nine miles on the Frederick road, by which means 
we were obliged to go the other eight through 
woods, where we wandered two hours without find- 
ing a guide, or the path. Fortunately, a straggling 



LETTERS. 433 

black came up with us, and we engaged him as a 
guide, to extricate us out of our difficuhy ; but woods 
are all you see, from Baltimore until you reach the 
cify^ which is only so in name. Here and there is a 
small cot, without a glass window, interspersed 
amongst the forests, through which you travel miles 
without seeing any human being. In the city there 
are buildings enough, if they were compact and 
finished, to accommodate Congress and those attach- 
ed to it ; but as they are, and scattered as they are, 
I see no great comfort for them. The river, which 
runs up to Alexandria, is in full view of my window, 
and I see the vessels as they pass and repass. ^; The 
house is upon a grand and superb scale, requiring 
about thirty servants to attend and keep the apart- 
ments in proper order, and perform the ordinary 
business of the house and stables ; an establishment 
very well proportioned to the President's salary. The 
lighting the apartments, from the kitchen to parlours 
and chambers, is a tax indeed ; and the fires we are 
obliged to keep to secure us from daily agues is 
another very cheering comfort. To assist us in this 
great castle, and render less attendance necessary, 
belTs are wholly wanting, not one single one being 
hung through the whole house, and promises are all 
you can obtain. This is so great an inconvenience, 
that I know not what to do, or how to do. The la- 
dies from Georgetown and in the city have many of 
them visited me. Yesterday I returned fifteen vis- 
its, — but such a place as Georgetown appears, — 



434 LETTERS. - ' 

why, our Milton is beautiful. But no comparisons ; — 
S" they will put me up some bells, and let me have 
wood enough to keep fires, I design to be pleas- 
ed. I could coment myself almost anywhere three 
months ; but, surrounded with forests, can you be- 
lieve that wood is not to be had, because people 
cannot be found to cut and cart it ! Briesler enter- 
ed into a contract with a man to supply him with 
wood. A small part, a few cords only, has he 
been able to get. Most of that was expended to 
dry the walls of the house before we came in, and 
yesterday the man told him it was impossible for 
him to procure it to be cut and carted. He has 
had recourse to coals; but we cannot get grates 
made and set. We have, indeed, come into a new 
country. 

You must keep all this to yourself, and, when 
asked how I like it, say that I write you the situation 
is beautiful, which is true. The house is made hab- 
itable, but there is not a single apartment finished, 
and all withinside, except the plastering, has been 
done since Briesler came. We have not the least 
fence, yard, or other convenience, without, and the 
great unfinished audience-room I make a drying- '^ 
room of, to hang up the clothes in. The principal 
stairs are not up, and will not be this winter. Six 
chambers are made comfortable ; two are occupied 
by the President and Mr. Shaw ; two lower rooms, 
one for a common parlour, and one for a levee-room. 
Up stairs there is the oval room, which is designed 



LETTERS. 435 

for the drawingroom, and has the crimson furniture 
in it. It is a very handsome room now ; but, when 
completed, it will be beautiful. If the twelve years, 
in which this place has been considered as the future 
seat of government, had been improved, as they 
would have been if in New England, very many 
of the present inconveniences would have been re- 
moved. It is a beautiful spot, capable of every im- 
provement, and, the more I view it, the more I am 
delighted with it 

Since I sat down to write, I have been called 
down to a servant from Mount Vernon, with a billet 
from Major Custis, and a haunch of venison, and a 
kind, congratulatory letter from Mrs. Lewis, upon 
my arrival in the city, with Mrs. Washington's love, 
inviting me to Mount Vernon, where, health permit- 
ting, I will go, before I leave this place. 

The Senate is much behind-hand. No Congress 

has yet been made. 'T is said is on his 

way, but travels with so many delicacies in his rear, 
that he cannot get on fast, lest some of them should 
suffer. 

Thomas comes in and says a House is made ; so 
to-morrow, though Saturday, the President will meet 
them. Adieu, my dear. Give my love to your 
brother, and tell him he is ever present upon my 
mind. Affectionately your mother, 

A. Adams. 



436 LETTERS. 



TO COLONEL W. S. SMITH. 

Quincy, 3 May, 1801. 

DEAR SIR, 

I HAVE to acknowledge the receipt of the raspberry 
bushes, and the pot of strawberry vines, for which 
accept my thanks. I have had them placed in a 
good part of the garden, and shall pay particular 
attention to them. I hope I shall be able to treat you 
with a plate of them, when I shall have the pleasure 
of seeing you at Quincy. 

Whatever strange events occur in the political 
world, r think your path plain; the strict and im- 
partial discharge of the duties of your office, with a 
prudent silence, without becoming the demagogue 
of any party. 

Be so good as to send the enclosed by a safe 
hand. My love to Mrs. Smith and the children. 
Tell her I have commenced my operations of dairy- 
woman ; and she might see me, at five o'clock in the 
morning, skimming my milk. Adieu, my dear Sir. 
Your affectionate 

A. Adams. 



LETTERS. 437 



TO THOMAS B. ADAMS. 

Quincy, 12 July, 1801. 



MY DEAR SON, 

I AM much delighted to learn that you intend mak- 
ing a visit to the old mansion. I wish you could 
have accomplished it so as to have been here hy this 
time, which would have given you an opportunity of 
being at Commencement, meeting many of your 
old acquaintance, and visiting the seat of science, 
where you received your first rudiments. I shall 
look daily for you. You will find your father in his 
fields, attending to his hay-makers, and your mother 
busily occupied in the domestic concerns of her 
family. I regret that a fortnight of sharp drought 
has shorn many of the beauties we had in rich luxu- 
riance. The verdure of the grass is become a brown, 
the flowers hang their heads, droop, and fade, whilst 
the vegetable world languishes ; yet still we have a 
pure air. The crops of hay have been abundant ; 
upon this spot, where eight years ago we cut scarce- 
ly six tons, we now have thirty. " We are here, 
among the vast and noble scenes of nature, where 
we walk in the light and open ways of the divine 
bounty, and where our senses are feasted with the 
clear and genuine taste of their objects." 

" Who, that has reason and his smell, 
Would not among roses and jasmine dwell, 
Rather than all his spirits choke 
With exhalations of dirt and smoke, 



438 LETTER^ 

And all the uncleanness, which does drown 
In pestilential clouds a populous town." 

At this season, it is best to take the packet by way 
of Providence. 

I have received Mr. J 's play. It is better 

executed than I beUeved him capable of performing. 
As a youthful specimen of genius, it has merit. I 

presume S has sent you Mr. Paine's Oration upon 

July the 4th. I think you will be pleased with it. 
I am my dear Thomas, 

Affectionately your mother, 

A. A. 



TO MRS. SHAW. 

Quincy, 5 June, 1809. 
I WAS unable to reply to my dear sister's letter of 
May 19th when I received it, being visited by St. 
Anthony, who scourged me most cruelly. I am sure 
I wished well to the Spanish patriots, in their late 
struggle for liberty, and I bore no ill-will to those 
whose tutelar saint, thus unprovoked, beset me. I wish 
he had been preaching to the fishes, who, according 
to tradition, have been his hearers ; for so ill did he 
use me, that I came very near losing my senses. I 
think he must be a very bigoted saint, a favorer of 
the Inquisition, and a tyrant. If such are the pen- 
ances of saints, I hope to hold no further intercourse 
with them. For four days and nights my face was 
so swelled and inflamed, that I was almost blind. It 



LETTERS. 443 

At five, went to Mr. T. G 's, with your grand- 
father; the third visit he has made with us in the 
week; and let me whisper to you he played at wliist 

with Mr. J. G , who was as ready and accurate 

as though he had both eyes to see with. Returned. 

At nine, sat down and wrote a letter. 

At eleven, retired to bed. We do not so every 
week. I tell it you as one of the marvels of the 
age. By all this, you will learn that grandmother 
has got rid of her croaking, and that grandfather 
is in good heal h, and that both of us are as tranquil 
as that bald old fellow, called Time, will let us be. 

And here I was interrupted in my narrative. 

I re-assume my pen upon the 22d of November, 
being this day sixty-eight years old. How many 
reflections occur to me upon this anniversary ! 

What have I done for myself or others in this 
long period of my sojourn, that I can look back upon 
with pleasure, or reflect upon with approbation } 
Many, very many follies and errors of judgment and 
conduct rise up before me, and ask forgiveness of 
that Being, who seeth into the secret recesses of the 
heart, and from whom nothing is hidden. I think I 
may with truth say, that in no period of my life 
have the vile passions had control over me. I bear 
no enmity to any human being ; but, alas ! as Mrs. 
Placid said to her friend, by which of thy good 
works wouldst thou be willing to be judged ? I do 
not believe, with some divines, that all our good 
works are but as filthy rags ; the example which our 



444 LETfERS. 

great Master has set before us, of purily, benevo- 
lence, obedience, submission and humility, are vir- 
tues which, if faithfully practised, will find their re- 
ward ; or why has he pronounced so many benedic- 
tions upon them in his sermon on the mount ? I 
would ask with the poet, 

" Is not virtue in mankind 
The nutriment that feeds the mind ? 
Then who, with reason, can pretend 
That all effects of virtue end ? " 

I am one of those who are willing to rejoice always. 
My disposition and habits are not of the gloomy 
kind. I believe that " to enjoy is to obey." 

" Yet not to Earth's contracted span, 
Thy goodness let me bound ; 
'Or think thee Lord alone of man, 
Whilst thousand worlds are round.'' 

I have many more subjects, dear Caroline, which 

I want to write to you upon. 

27 November. 

Yesterday was our Thanksgiving day. In our 
own way, and with tempers suited to the occasion, 
we gave thanks for those blessings which we felt 
had been granted to us in the year past, for the 
restoration and recovery from dangerous sickness of 
members of our own family ; and, although in one in- 
stance we had been called to weep, in many others 
we had cause of rejoicing. We were in health ; we 
had good news from a far country ; we had food and 
lainjent, and we still enjoyed liberty, and our rulers 
vere men of our own election, and removable by 



LETTERS. 445 

the people. Dear Caroline, I have trespassed upon 
you. I will close by saying, that your uncle and 
aunt, with their three children, your aunt Smith, 
George and John Adams, with our own family, 
made the joyful group. We remembered the ab- 
sent, and sent our wishes to Russia and the valley ; 
but wishes were empty. — No, they bore upon their 
wings blessings, a portion of which were for my dear 
Caroline, 

From her affectionate grandmother, 

Abigail Adams. 



Quincy, 3 February, 1814. 

DEAR SIR, 

Ever since your letter to the President, of Decem- 
ber last, I have had a great inclination to address a 
letter to Mr. Vanderkemp ; and, being now confined 
to my chamber, by an attack of the rheumatism, I 
find a leisure hour to address my friend in his soli- 
tude. 

And in the first place, to put him perfectly at his 
ease, I assure him that I make not any pretensions 
to the character of a learned lady, and therefore, 

1 The late Judge Vanderkemp presented the letters which he 
had received from Mrs. Adams to Mrs. Quincy, the wife of the 
President of Harvard University. By her, they have been, with 
great kindness, submitted to the disposal of the Editor, whc^only 
regrets that the limits of this volume would not allow him to in- 
sert more than a single specimen. ' 



446 LETTEKfe. 

according to his creed, I am entitled to his benevo- 
lence. I can say with Gay's hermit, 

"The little knowledge I have gained, 
Is all from simple nature drained." 

I agree w'th Mr. Vanderkemp, that, in declaring 
] s opinion, he has expressed that of most gentle- 
men, the true cause of which I shall trace no farther 
than that they consider a companion more desirable 
than a rival. In reading the life of Madame de Stael, 
I learn that it was her superior talents and learning, 
perhaps too ostentatiously displayed, which produced 
that coldness, estrangement, and unhappiness, which 
marred all her pleasure with the Baron de Stael, 
soured every domestic enjoyment, and was the 
occasion of that sarcastic question to her by the 
Emperor Bonaparte. Upon some occasion, she had 
solicited an interview with him, and recommended 
to him some measure for him to pursue. He heard 
her, but made her no other reply than this ; " Mad- 
am, who educates your children .?" 

I like your portrait of female excellence. Solo- 
mon has also drawn one in the character of a virtu- 
ous woman ; but, if a sound understanding had not 
been united with virtuous habits and principles, is it 
probable that he would have represented the heart of 
her husband as safely trusting in her ? or that he 
would have derived so much lustre from her charac- 
ter, as to be known in the gates, when he sat with 
the elders of the land ? It is very certain, that a 
well-informed woman, conscious of her nature and 



LETTERS. 447 

dignity, is more capable of performing the relative 
duties of life, and of engaging and retaining the 
affections of a man of understanding, than one whose 
intellectual endowments rise not above the common 
level. 

There are so few women who may be really 
called learned, that I do not wonder they are con- 
sidered as black swans. It requires such talents and 
such devotion of time and study, as to exclude the 
performance of most of the domestic cares and du- 
ties which exclusively fall to the lot of most females 
in this country. I believe nature has assigned to each 
sex their particular duties and sphere of action, and 
to act well their part, " there all the honor lies." 

Have you seen John Randolph's letter, and Mr. 
Lloyd's reply ? 

Present me in friendly terms to Mrs. Vander- 
"kemp. Tell her, I wish we were neighbours. I 
should then have a pleasure which our residence in 
the country deprives us of, that of the society and 
converse of a gentleman of taste, science, and ex- 
tensive information; and, although much of his 
learning might be above my comprehension, his be- 
nevolence, politeness, and urbanity would render it 
grateful, and be in unison with the good-will and 
friendship entertained for him by 

Abigail Adams. 

THE END. 



CAMBRIDGE: 
FOLSOM, WELLS, AND THURSTON, 

PRINTERS TO THE UNIVERSITY. 



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